The Penderwicks Forever
by QueenMaeve721
Summary: The Penderwick sisters are all in their twenties and facing some tough moments. Rosalind has reservations about her upcoming wedding, Skye misses the east coast, Jane doubts herself as a writer, and Batty struggles to recover from heartbreak. The only solution: a summer trip. For readers who felt the 5th book didn't offer enough detail on the OG 4. Jeffrey guest stars of course!
1. Chapter 1: The Call of the East

Skye Penderwick missed her sisters. Of all the Penderwicks, she was the least susceptible to weepiness and general angst, but even she had her limits. And no one had ever accused Skye of loving her sisters any less, despite her apparent lack of sentimentality.

The truth was, Skye had gone out to California to study Astrophysics, and she didn't regret it. She had wanted to be an astrophysicist with all her being. But after seven long years, Skye was finally starting to feel the distance. Jane and Rosalind were both working in Boston, Jane as a waitress and, of course, an aspiring writer. Rosalind was running her urban farm. The two of them could pop home for a visit anytime.

And they did. They had family dinners, and attended Lydia's dance performances and Ben's birthday parties.

Batty, meanwhile, was in school in New York. When the Penderwicks were young, New York City had seemed like a great unknown. It had seemed terribly far. But it wasn't, not really. Batty could go home for weekends whenever she wanted. It wasn't like California.

If Skye wanted to go home, she had to take a six hour flight. She had to get herself to SFO from Palo Alto, then she had to suffer through a crowded long flight, usually a red-eye, and Skye could never sleep on planes. Then she landed in Boston and had to take the train then a bus out to Cameron, where at last she could be ensconced in her family's arms. For a few days. Then she had to do the whole thing again, in reverse.

She knew that her family missed her as well. When they were young, Jane and Skye had been so different, yet always together. They were practically attached at the hip. They played soccer together, walked to school together, did chores together. Jane peppered every day with her outlandish comments or conspiracy theories about magic or elves, and Skye told her to shut up. Jane would be stricken with the fear of facing down some great and terrible enemy – a teacher or a mean neighbor or the Mrs. Tifton of old – and Skye would ask her if they were men or mice. And every time, Jane would stick out her chin and straighten her back.

Both Jane and Skye had been excited to be on their own. Jane wanted to be an independent artist. She wanted to be _the _Penderwick, not the younger (and often stranger) Penderwick sister. And Skye had wanted to be left alone with her numbers and her stars. Skye wanted a break from all of Jane's drama and boyfriends.

For a while, they had both enjoyed being freed of the sisterly shackles. Skye had studied and studied and been top of her class. Jane had been wildly popular at her small liberal arts college. She had written for the school magazine, and she had even acted in a few plays. Everyone on campus knew about the curly-haired and vivacious Jane Penderwick. Jane told Skye one Christmas break that Jane had been wanting to be called "vivacious" her whole life. Not "excitable," not "spacy," not "over-dramatic." Vivacious. What a word, Jane had said.

Now Jane was a year out of college, and the road was bumpy. Jane said she had always known that being a great writer would be a "trail of trials and tribulations," but Skye figured Jane was taking things harder than she even let on. Skye couldn't imagine Jane was all that good at being a waitress, and Jane had recently sworn off love since it was too distracting. If Jane was giving up on love and romance, something was surely wrong.

Skye walked through the clear California air one February, and she thought about her options. She had gotten her masters, and she had been working on a research team for a while. Now she was ready to go for her doctorate, and she was qualified enough for a lot of programs. She didn't have to stay at Stanford.

Skye walked into the lab and waved hello to Gretchen and David. They were both quiet. Skye liked them. She had spent too little time with quiet people in her life.

She sat down at her usual table, and she sipped her coffee (black with milk). Skye had gotten the same exact coffee from the same exact Peet's every day for the last two years. She tried to focus on her work, but Skye kept thinking about MIT. It had a great program. And it was in Boston. Back when Skye was applying for doctorate programs, she had submitted an application to MIT. Her advisor told her it was good to have options, just to see where she got in. Skye had gotten in. She had been sure she would stay in California. But that was then.

Skye had always thought that she loved routines. Her whole life, she had craved order. And her sisters had ran wild through Skye's desperate attempts at agendas and discipline. Skye had longed for the day when she could design her routine without sisterly interference.

But now, Skye gazed out the window at the blue California sky, and she couldn't help but think maybe her routines had gotten boring. Maybe her sisters were the only thing that made her life interesting.

And maybe, Skye didn't know who she was without Jane and Rosalind and even Batty. Maybe Skye wasn't _anyone_ without them.


	2. Chapter 2: Being in Love

Rosalind was very in love. With Tommy. She had been in love since she was thirteen, and she never really stopped. There was still snow coating the ground in Boston, Rosalind was on her way to a job that she adored, and she was in love with a handsome lawyer.

She believed that her and Tommy were for sure, no doubt, absolutely, definitely a great romance.

But sometimes Rosalind did wonder, especially since turning 25 over a year ago, what other great romances could she possibly be missing? What chances were passing her by?

Rosalind was beautiful, and she had always known it. Being a strong and smart Penderwick woman, she had never thought that physical beauty was all she had to offer the world. She had never believed that looking pretty was the most important thing. But she had always been aware that she _was_ pretty.

Her sisters had told her first. Jane would gab on and on about how Rosalind was the most beautiful sister, with her gleaming chestnut locks and elegant bone structure reminiscent of Cleopatra or Emma Woodhouse, and whatever other historical or fictional women Jane would think up. Batty, too, would tell Rosalind she wanted to be beautiful, just like Rosalind, when she got older. Lucky for Batty, they were nearly identical nowadays.

Even Skye had said Rosalind was beautiful, every now and then. When Rosalind would ask Skye if she looked alright in an outfit, Skye would shrug and say: "You are always beautiful."

It was an irrefutable fact. And then later in life, many others had repeated it. Tommy, of course. But also older neighbors, relatives, half the boys she met in college.

If anything, Rosalind had gotten more and more beautiful the older she got. Hers was not a brief flash of youthful loveliness at fifteen. Nor did post-graduate life burn it out of her. At almost 27, Rosalind was lean and tan from working on the urban farm, her hair was long and shiny, and her eyes were as bright as ever.

So Rosalind knew she had plenty of chances to try someone else. To try a different love. And she knew she would continue to have those chances.

But she loved Tommy. She did.

She had never been so happy as she was when Tommy proposed last fall. He had given her a tiny ruby ring, and both of their families had been so overjoyed. And when Jeffrey had insisted they have the wedding at Arundel, Rosalind's heart felt like it might overflow.

"Tommy and Rosalind!" Jane had shouted. "The epic tale of One True Love that defines our time!"

Jane had meant well, but when she said "one true love," Rosalind had only heard "love wasted on one man." All her beauty, all her time, all devoted to one person.

As she walked into the compound and headed to the kitchen/office space, Rosalind shook her head. She was being crazy. Bride jitters. And she wasn't even a bride, technically. The wedding wasn't until late August. She had fiance jitters. Which wasn't a thing.

"Good morning, Ava," Rosalind said to her co-worker. "Any word on the suppliers for spring?"

"Emailing them now!" Ava chirped.

Rosalind set her back down on the table and told herself to focus.

After all, Rosalind might be in love, but she didn't have to let it distract her. She hadn't let love derail her since she was twelve, and _that _was something she could be proud of.


	3. Chapter 3: The Winds of Change

Jane was truly a horrible waitress. She rarely made it through a shift without spilling a drink or dropping a tray, and today was no different. She had only been on the floor an hour, and she had already dropped a mug of coffee. She had been carrying the mug to Table 4 when it struck her that she needed to go into more detail about her protagonist's past _before _the murder occurred in chapter 4.

Luckily, it mostly splattered onto her blue skirt, and not on a customer.

Jane used to like her old-style diner outfit, but after more than a year on the job, the charm had worn off. She would have tried to find work elsewhere, only she was pretty sure she would have been fired long ago from any other restaurant.

But Dawn, the owner, liked her. And, lo and behold, the customers liked Jane too. One way or another, spilled coffee or not, people usually liked Jane.

Maybe that was why she was struggling with her villain in her current detective story. Jane was too likable. She didn't know what it was like to be detested, reviled, abhorred. How could she depict a realistic murderess if she herself had such limited experience?

The diner was in a lull, and Jane pressed her head against the window. It was a dreary day, and it had started to snow, only it wasn't the light magical snow of December. It was the wet slushy snow of February.

"Blegh," whispered Jane.

She knew it was far too soon to give up on her dream of being a writer. She knew every writer struggled. They had to struggle and struggle and get rejected over and over before greatness struck. That was what it meant to be an artist. Failing and never giving up. And Jane had no intention of giving up. None at all.

She just wished, on days like this, that Skye was around to ask her if she was a man or a mouse.

Although Skye had it easy. Skye's dream was so structured. She wanted to be an Astrophysicist, well, that was challenging, Jane would never say it wasn't, but the path was clear. Just go to school and study and research, then go to more school.

Meanwhile Jane was out here in the school of hard knocks.

Jane's phone buzzed right then, and as if Fate had heard Jane's plaintive thoughts, it was from Skye.

_Call me when you're on break._

Jane sighed and thought for the millionth time how her older sister in all her brevity was truly a wealth of mystery.

"No phones, Miss Janie," Dawn snapped from the kitchen. "Focus on the humans, not the robots."

"Sorry," Jane said. "I'll put it in the back."

Liz, the other waitress on duty, rolled her eyes when Dawn turned her back, but Jane shrugged. Dawn had a point. It depressed Jane to see all the customers who came in with friends or family, only to spend the whole meal with their eyes glued to a phone.

Then again, technology was the future. Maybe Jane could write a story about a dystopia when the robots took over. It could explore the ultimate question of what it meant to be human.

Jane adjusted her waitress pad and nodded to herself. It had potential.

Nothing Jane had written recently had been terribly good. All her friends and family told her she was being too hard on herself, and Jane knew that it was natural to produce bad drafts, but it was hard. All her best ideas just weren't panning out. She had started, then abandoned two novels because she realized halfway through they weren't good enough, would never be good enough.

Her most recent endeavor had promise. Detective stories offered ample opportunity for a range of characters. But Jane kept wondering if there was too much action. Then she would try to layer in more detail and background, and then there would be no action.

Jane decided she would send some recent chapters to her dad that evening. He was always the most honest yet constructive critic. Rosalind was always too nice, Batty always got caught up in a peculiar paranoia over whether particularly annoying characters were supposed to be based on Batty, and Skye often never got around to reading anything. Although when she did, Jane had to admire that Skye didn't pull punches. Jane lost count of how many times Skye had insulted the sappiness of old Sabrina Starr, the heroine of Jane's youthful writings.

"Psst, Jane," Liz muttered. "Customers, that's your table."

"Right," Jane said. "Customers. Right, right, right."

When her shift ended, Jane pulled the hood of her coat up over her head and began the walk home. It was almost twenty minutes to her apartment, but Jane enjoyed the time to stroll the streets and think. Sometimes the most compelling bits of dialogue would strike her on this walk to and from work, and Jane would sit down on a bench and quickly jot down some notes. Once she had been over thirty minutes late for work because she came up with the most astounding exchange between her two characters embroiled in a lover's quarrel. That was when she was with Leon. She thought much of lover's quarrels back then, before she swore off love and romance.

That afternoon, Jane pulled out her cell-phone and called Skye.

"Hi," Skye answered on the second ring.

"Sing to me, oh sister, of the California sun," Jane said. "I am languishing here in the bitter cold of winter."

"Um, sun is the same as it was yesterday, and the day before," Skye said. "How are things?"

"Oh, things are plodding along," Jane said. "The life of a writer. Although I guess I can't call myself that, I'm technically a waitress. Just a really bad waitress. I spilled coffee today, and I seriously don't think this stain will come out of the skirt. Iantha told me she had a foolproof stain removal strategy, but I can't seem to master it."

"You're a writer," Skye said.

Jane smiled. Skye had a way of announcing things as if they were fact. Grass is green. The Earth is round. Jane is a writer.

"I've been thinking," Skye said. "And I've pretty much decided that I'm going to move back to Boston. To get my doctorate at MIT."

"What?" Jane said.

"Well, MIT has a great program, and I applied just to have options, and I got in," Skye said. "I thought I would stay here for my doctorate, but now I've changed my mind. I'll start in the fall, which means I'll just finish up a few projects here and probably move back by summer. Live with Dad and Iantha for a while, and then find an apartment in Boston."

"Skye, that's wonderful," Jane said. She felt a lump in her throat. "I've missed you."

"Oh, don't _cry_," Skye said.

"Well I have missed you, and so has Rosalind and Batty, and Daddy will be so happy," Jane said. "And it will be nice to see you and Dusek more often."

Skye went silent on the other end. Jane's eyebrows shot up. The one bright side of Jane's heart having been broken twice now was that Jane was exceptional at sniffing out heartache in others.

"We broke up," Skye said. "About a month ago."

"A month ago?" Jane cried.

Perhaps not that good at sniffing out heartache. She had spoken to Skye at least four times in the last month. Then again, no one was better than Skye at dodging emotions.

"It just wasn't working," Skye said. "I got impatient."

Skye _was_ impatient. Which was why everyone had been so pleasantly surprised that she and Dusek stuck together for three years. That was practically an eternity where Skye was concerned. In college, Skye had a string of flings and a few one-night stands. She never saw the point in anything more serious, until Dusek.

Dusek had been so perfect for Skye. He was studying marine biology, and he was calm and polite to counteract Skye's intensity and occasional surliness. And he adored Skye. So when they stayed together for three whole years, all the Penderwicks figured that was it.

"Skye, why didn't you say anything?" Jane asked. "All this time, you've been desolate in California."

"I haven't been desolate," Skye said. "Please, let's drop it. When are you next home? I want to sort out a few things here, and then I'll tell everyone when you're together."

"I could go up week after next," Jane said. "I'll make sure Rosalind can make it, and Batty is on Spring break then."

"Perfect," Skye said.

"Anything else?" Jane asked.

Jane knew Skye like she knew the back of her hand, three thousand miles between them or not, and so Jane knew that if she asked for details about Dusek outright, Skye would clam up.

"Nope," Skye said. "Just looking forward to this summer."

"Hmm," Jane said.

"Gotta go," Skye said.

Jane entered her tiny studio apartment and sighed. She did like her studio, even if it was small and dingy, and often lacked hot water. Jane thought it was wonderful. She had taped postcards to the wall, and her bed was covered in a cheerful quilt she had picked out with Iantha. Jane was positive her studio was just like the garret Hemingway had in Paris.

She plopped down at her table and opened up her laptop.

"At last," she whispered.

And Jane began to type.


	4. Chapter 4: Wesley and the West

Batty didn't get stagefright anymore. Her fear of public speaking or performing for an audience had once been her greatest weakness. Her Achilles Heel, as Jane put it.

She had gotten over it when she was thirteen. The middle school chorus director wanted to feature Batty. She was given a special solo in the holiday concert. Batty was fine during rehearsals. She loved to sing, and she had been taking lessons for a few years by then, so she was used to singing in front of people that she knew.

Then they got to the dress rehearsals, and Batty had been on stage, peering out at the rows and rows of empty seats, and she realized that in a few days, those seats would be filled with absolute strangers. Batty had choked and ran off stage. She told her chorus teacher she wasn't feeling well.

When she got home, Batty had cried and cried. Her dad had held her, and Iantha had made her a cup of hot chocolate. Batty still remembered how concerned and scared Ben and Lydia had looked. With Jane and the others away at college, Batty was the Oldest Available Penderwick. So far, she had excelled in the role, but her breakdown was not very OAPish at all.

Her father asked her if maybe she could pretend the audience wasn't there. If she could try a trick, like picturing the people naked, or staring at the box on the far wall. He said lots of famous performers looked not at the audience, but at the box.

"I can't do it," Batty had sobbed. "I just can't."

After a while, her father said that was fine. He would just call the chorus teacher and tell her Batty would not sing the solo. Someone else could do it.

"Maybe that Felicity girl," her father said. "She has a nice voice, she can sing the solo."

Batty froze. She wiped a stray tear off her cheek. She sniffled. She had not considered that someone else would sing her solo. She had worked so hard on that solo, and she loved it very much. And she knew no one, not even Felicity, _especially _not Felicity, could sing it like she could.

"No, Daddy," Batty had said. "Don't call anyone."

The next day, Batty had walked right into rehearsal. She had felt her knees quake and her breath catch at the sight of all the empty chairs, but she took one deep breath, and she imagined Felicity singing the solo. And then Batty sang. Perfectly.

She did the same exact thing at the performance.

And that was that. Every single time Batty had to perform, and she felt the familiar fear creep into her bones, she would picture someone else singing her part. And then she would open her mouth and perform.

Her father thought it was hilarious.

"Batty, never did I have _you _pegged as one of my competitive children," he said. "Jane and Skye were always the competitive ones. They say it's a middle child trait, and you were always the youngest. So gentle and sweet."

"But she's not the youngest anymore," Iantha said. "When me and Ben and Lydia joined the family, we made Batty a middle child too."

"Well, there you go," her father had said. "Batty, my Fierce Competitor Middle Child, with what jealousy she defends her roles."

"I'm not jealous," Batty says. "I just don't want anyone else singing my parts."

All through high school and her first year of college, Batty had never gotten stage fright. She had been cast as the lead role in the winter production of _Oklahoma. _The director at NYU wanted to create a bold reinterpretation, so she made Laurie and Curley lesbian lovers. Batty had rolled with it. She had already played Laurie in high school. She could sing that part any way she wanted.

Batty had gotten on the infamous NYU stage, and she had bravely held her own against older and more experienced actors. That hadn't been scary at all.

But now, sitting across from Wesley at a cafe, Batty was scared. She was feeling the old heaviness in her throat. She didn't know what to do with her hands. It was just like stage fright, only Batty didn't know how to get rid of it this time.

Wesley was talking again about how he was thinking of dropping out and moving west.

"There's just a lot going on, in the midwest," Wesley said. "Cities like Kansas City and St. Louis have these fresh art scenes."

"Oh," Batty said.

"I don't know if I'll go all the way to California, but who knows?" Wesley said.

Wesley was a masterful painter. He was a junior, and during Batty's first week in New York, he had seen her rehearsing in a practice room. He had waited for her to finish, and then he had walked up to her. He smiled (Wesley had the kindest smile), and he asked her if he could paint her. Batty was in love within days.

Batty drummed her fingers against the table. Then she sipped her latte. Wesley was waiting for her to speak. Wesley was so good at that.

"But this is New York," Batty said. "There's art _here_. Why would you leave New York?"

"Oh, Batty," Wesley said. "Princess of New England."

"Don't call me that," Batty said.

"Ok," Wesley said. "I won't. I didn't know you didn't like it."

Wesley had called Batty the "Princess of New England" loads of times before. He said it was because she had a sort of regal air about her, not just on stage, but in the way she held herself, tall and straight-backed and high-headed. And she talked about her childhood in Massachusetts so much, and it all sounded so idyllic.

Batty used to like the title.

"New York isn't even technically part of New England," Batty said.

"Well," Wesley said.

Wesley shrugged. He was from Idaho. A lot of girls found that so endearing. Tons of students wanted to be with Wesley. They daydreamed about his sweet smile, and everyone raved about his talent.

Batty still didn't know how she was lucky enough to end up with him.

They finished their coffee. Batty said she needed to go practice. Wesley walked her to the rehearsal room. Both Batty and Wesley could be very quiet. They could spend hours in each other's company and not say a word. Usually, the silences were nice.

Once she was shut in her little room, Batty rifled through some music. Her professor wanted her to get more opera in her repertoire. Musicals are great, the professor said, but you gotta broaden your horizon.

Batty was glad it was almost spring break. She could go home and curl up in her bed. She could sing her dad's favorite songs. She could hear about Lydia's middle school friends. She could watch TV with Ben. She could share quiet cups of tea with her mom, and then maybe tell Iantha how scared she was that she had fallen too hard for Wesley, and now he was going to leave and break her heart into a million pieces.

Batty pulled out the sheet music for "Burn" from _Hamilton_. She could work on her opera later.

Batty sang: "I knew you were mine, you said you were mine, I thought you were mine…"


	5. Chapter 5: Back to Gardam Street

Jane swept the diner floor with uncharacteristic cheeriness. It was almost midnight, and she was closing up. Tomorrow she would hit the road early with Rosalind. They would be home in Cameron by lunchtime.

"I'll take the trash out too!" Jane called to Liz.

"You're a saint today," Liz said.

"I'm always a saint," Jane said.

Liz snorted and reminded Jane about the time last week when a customer asked Jane why his omelette was taking so long and Jane had told him that he was welcome to duck into the kitchen and help cook.

"I was frustrated that day," Jane said. "None of my characters were cooperating. But going home will be good for me. I'm always inspired when I go home."

Jane walked fast on the way back to her apartment. She always made sure to keep her pepper spray in her pocket in easy reach when she had to work the late shift. Her dad always worried, but nothing bad had happened yet.

Sometimes Jane wanted something bad to happen, just so she could get some experience. It might be rather thrilling to pepper spray someone. Maybe Skye would pretend to be an attacker when she was back. Jane doubted it, but perhaps Skye missed her so much she would be willing to help Jane out with life experiences in her spare time.

Jane was terrible at keeping secrets. She had already told Rosalind that Skye was considering moving back, and that she had broken up with Dusek, the love of her life. Jane was positive it was Skye who had dumped him. Dusek was too sweet to break up with Skye.

"Plus, Skye is kinda out of his league," Rosalind said.

"Huh?" Jane said. They had been having brunch at their favorite restaurant. Rosalind was eating the spinach and mushroom omelette. Jane was sawing through a stack of waffles with extra whipped cream.

"I hate to say it, it feels mean," Rosalind said. "But Dusek was just a little...plain."

"It is very unlike you to critique other people's appearance," Jane said. She shook her fork at Rosalind, splattering cream over the table.

"I didn't mean _just _his appearance," Rosalind said. "He was boring. Skim milk. Vanilla ice cream."

"He was a scientist," Jane said.

"So? There's no rule that scientists have to be bland," Rosalind said. "Skye's certainly not."

Jane contemplated all this. She had to admit Skye had always looked like she was floating a few inches above Dusek. He had been so quiet and polite. Jane had figured it was a European thing, since he was from the Czech Republic.

"Good for Skye for not settling," Rosalind said. "Penderwick women should never settle."

Jane had liked that line. She was still contemplating how she could stick it into her writing. Obviously, she would have to change the "Penderwick" part. And who would say it? Her protagonist's best friend? When?

Jane was a bit jealous to be honest. She wished Rosalind had been that inspiring back in December, when Jane and Leon had their explosive fight, during which Jane threw a Christmas wreath across a room.

When Jane had met Rosalind at a wine bar to discuss, Jane had been furious. How dare Leon question her life choices and judge her? How dare he suggest she think about law school. Just because he was Mr. Responsible with his job in finance. Jane had thought he was different. She had thought he had a heart.

All Rosalind had said then was: "Don't you think you sometimes pick fights though? Like, you're expecting him to criticize you, so you leap down his throat if he says just one thing that you think is a little bit critical."

Jane had been speechless.

"Face it," Rosalind had said. "You like to fight."

Then Jane had tried to get Rosalind to take tequila shots. Rosalind had declined (it was a Tuesday evening), so Jane had taken two. Rosalind had gone home to Tommy at one point, but Jane had stayed on and made some friends at the bar.

The next morning, Jane had a hangover of absolutely devastating proportions. And that's when she swore off love.

That night in the wine bar, Jane would have killed for inspiring "We Don't Settle" Rosalind. She wondered if Rosalind had called Skye and told her that she approved of the break-up.

Skye would have no right to be mad that Jane had told Rosalind. If Skye wanted it to be a secret, she wouldn't have told Jane. Besides, now that Jane thought about it, it was very likely that Skye had intentionally told Jane, because Skye knew Jane would spread it to the rest of the family, thus removing the need for Skye to drop the news. Typical Skye.

Back at her apartment, Jane began to pack. Not even memories of Leon and Rosalind's useless relationship advice could interfere with her mood.

March was not her favorite month. Jane had to pack layers. When she got to Gardam Street, it might rain or the weather might drop. Or they could get a warm spell. Jane didn't look up the weather forecast. She had decided that not knowing made life a little more interesting. In old books, people were always getting caught in the rain unawares, and it usually moved the plot along. Jane wanted her plot to be given a nice push, and who knew, maybe a shocking rain shower on Gardam Street would be just the thing.


	6. Chapter 6: A Lonely Train Ride

Batty had packed some books and downloaded some music to her phone for the train ride from New York to Boston. But she didn't read, nor did she listen.

She just stared out the window and thought for the whole four hours.

Wesley was determined. He wasn't just talking about leaving or thinking about leaving. He was going to do it. He had even suggested she go with him.

"I can't!" Batty cried.

"Of course," Wesley said. "Of course, of course, I would never pressure you. I'll just miss you, is all."

Batty had said she would miss him as well. She said she wouldn't be able to bear long distance, especially if he was on the road a lot. Wesley said he would never expect her to do long distance.

Batty had stupidly thought that maybe then he would reconsider. He had not. He was as determined as ever to go, even if he was a bit sad at the idea of saying goodbye.

So Batty had said they might as well break up now and spare themselves a long drawn-out painful process.

"If that's what you want," Wesley had said.

It wasn't what Batty wanted. It was not at all what she wanted. But she had already said it, and deep down, she knew this was the practical choice. Protect her heart. Don't waste her time.

Jane would have good counsel. Jane was an expert at affairs of the heart. Rosalind would help comfort her as well.

Only until she got to Jane, Batty was alone with her thoughts.

Batty knew it was pathetic to spend an entire train ride pining after a boy. So Batty tried to think of her classes. That was boring. She tried to think of Lydia. She imagined Lydia had grown nearly two inches since she had last seen her. She tried to think of her friends.

That was a bit depressing. Batty didn't have that many friends. She had a roommate, who had definitely _not _appreciated whenever Wesley visited the room late at night. So Batty had spent more than half her time at Wesley's apartment, thus hindering any bonding with her roommate. She was on good terms with the other singers in the department. And she had even been invited to a few parties by the girl who played Ado Annie in _Oklahoma_. She had only gone to one though. She was too busy hanging out with Wesley to socialize more. Spending a quiet evening curled up reading while Wesley sketched her had been so much more enjoyable than a party.

But now she was back to Wesley. And Wesley was soon to be gone. And Batty had wasted her freshman year of college with a boyfriend instead of forging true friendships.

Friendship was important. Batty knew this. She never would have survived high school without Lena. She would have eaten alone almost every day, and she wouldn't have had the courage to try out for any of the musicals. Lena had been her biggest fan and confidant.

At NYU, friendships could make the difference in her career. Jeffrey had told Batty when she got in that networking was just as important for musicians as talent and hardwork. All those other performers and artistic creators would someday be sources for information and auditions. Jeffrey had gone to Juilliard, and he said he wouldn't have half so many piano gigs without the help of friends from school. That was showbiz.

So not only had Batty missed out on socialization and platonic emotional support because of Wesley, she had also crippled her career before it even got off the ground.

Batty was mad now. She was past sadness, and she had moved on to anger. Why hadn't anyone told her to stop being so silly? Her sisters had all met Wesley over Christmas break, and they had done nothing but gush over how artistic he was, and how kind, and how much the dogs liked him. And how perfect he was for Batty.

Of course he was perfect for Batty. Of course he was a good person. Batty would never deny that. It was his very goodness that made the situation so painful.

Jeffrey, at least, should have warned her. Jeffrey had spent New Year's at the Penderwicks. Instead of drinking wine late into the night with Jane and Skye, he should have pulled Batty aside and told her that she had to think of her singing first and foremost. Music was her life. Jeffrey knew that. He was supposed to be her mentor, after all.

Jeffrey used to relish being her mentor. He would go out of his way to give Batty new music to try, and he would call and ask her how lessons were going. Recently, the calls had stopped. Jeffrey was busy with his own career, of course, but Batty still wondered why she didn't hear from him as much.

And then she was back to being sad about a boy all over again.


	7. Chapter 7: The Kitchen

Rosalind loved the smell of the kitchen on Gardam Street more than any other scent in the whole world. She breathed in deep once, and she held it. Then she let it all out.

"Doing some yoga?" Jane asked while she rifled around in the cabinet for a snack.

"Gotta be centered," Rosalind said. She walked over to the counter and ran her hand over the surface. She had baked countless cakes and pies and cookies in this kitchen, and the smell seemed to hold the faraway scent of melting sugar. No matter what, this counter had always been there for her.

"Damn it," Jane hissed. She had spilled pita crackers into her lap, since she was trying to simultaneously shove the crackers into her mouth _and _jot down some lines in her notebook.

"Just do one thing at a time," Rosalind said.

"Can't," Jane said.

"Yoga would help with that."

Rosalind had gotten very into yoga in college. Everyone in the family had made fun of her for it. There's Rosalind, so peaceful and gentle, of course she does yoga. She didn't do it so much anymore. This past winter, she had gotten into spin classes.

They made fun of that too. So trendy. So millennial.

It's not like Rosalind paid thirty bucks a class to go to Soulcycle, with all its flashing lights and neon sports bras.

No, Rosalind just went to classes at the local YMCA. She enjoyed the cardio, and it was nice to just ride for thirty minutes. She never thought of anything else but the music and the bike when she was in spin. Rosalind had always been exceptional at focusing on just one thing.

A door slammed and pounding footsteps ricocheted throughout the Penderwick house.

"Jane!" Lydia shrieked. "Rosalind!"

Ben followed. He was less enthusiastic – he was a teenager now after all – but still happy to see his sisters.

"You look like you have _shrunk_," Jane said. "Do you have some sort of horrible disease? Is a plague spreading via the drinking water in Cameron?"

Lydia giggled.

"I brought you a gift, sweetie," Rosalind said.

Lydia clapped her hands and gleefully accepted the necklace Rosalind handed over. Lydia had always like pretty things. Rosalind's friend made handmade jewelry, and when Rosalind saw the little yellow flower trapped in the glass bead, she had instantly thought of red-haired Lydia.

It never escaped Rosalind's notice that Lydia and Ben treated her more like an aunt than a sister. With Jane, there was teasing and comfort and zero formality. But Rosalind had been about to go to college when Lydia was born, and Ben had been young as well. He didn't remember the teenage Rosalind that had babysat him and walked him to preschool, right after their parents had married.

There was some clear-cut line, and Rosalind had always been on the other side of it. The mysterious oldest sister. The grownup Rosalind. The responsible substitute mother-figure who never fell apart or made mistakes or did anything spontaneous.

It was probably worse for Skye. When Skye had moved across the country, the younger siblings started talking about her as if she was some sort of legendary myth or folktale.

Rosalind sighed. She was being dramatic. Maybe she should go back to yoga.

"Rosie, you should bake something tonight," Jane said. "In celebration!"

"I spoil you all," Rosalind said.

But she smiled and started to lay out on the counter the ingredients for brownies.

Batty arrived just after Rosalind put them in the oven. Batty hugged her first, then Jane and Ben, and then scooped Lydia onto her lap.

"Oh, I've missed everything," Batty said. "Every single thing."

"Ha, you don't miss driving everywhere for something to do," Ben said. "You probably have more restaurants on your block than in all of Cameron."

"A traveler might roam all around the world and back again, and nothing can match their hometown," Jane said.

"Well put," Rosalind said.

Rosalind could tell Batty was troubled. Batty never did have any sort of poker face. Batty and Rosalind might have been identical, right down to the cut of their cheekbones, the angle of their chins and the freckles on their noses, as their father liked to say, but Rosalind had long ago perfected the art of pushing emotions off her face and smoothing on a placid smile. She called it her Master-of-The-Situation Face.

Batty had none of that composure. Batty had every worry, fear and sadness stamped across her face. Every human emotion was always bubbling right beneath Batty's surface. It was probably what made her such an expressive singer.

"You two should do your homework," Rosalind said to Ben and Lydia. "I don't want Iantha and Dad saying that we distract you. They'll _ban_ us from the house."

Lydia and Ben nodded and headed towards their backpacks. There it was again: they obeyed Rosalind because she was an adult, not a sibling. Jane said she had to get some writing and then drifted upstairs for some quiet, as Rosalind knew she would.

As soon as they were alone in the kitchen, Batty exploded.

"Wesley and I broke up," Batty said. "He's moving west for the sake of his art, and we broke up, and I wasted my whole freshman year on him, and now I don't have any friends, and I'll never be successful."

"Oh, honey," Rosalind said. "Breakups are tough, especially when it's because of a move."

Tears were welling up in Batty's eyes. Rosalind was surprised. She knew Batty was sensitive, but she also knew Batty was good at being happy. Batty knew what she loved: music and animals and delicious vegetarian meals. It was unlike Batty to be in agony.

Rosalind crossed the kitchen and sat next to Batty. She felt, all of a sudden, like she was back talking with Jane about one of her disastrous love affairs. Was Skye going to be like this when she got back from California? In a year or two, would it be Ben? And then Lydia?

"Hey, it'll be ok," Rosalind said.

Batty breathed deeply and smiled.

"You're right," Batty said. "I just need to keep moving."

Rosalind smiled and patted Batty's hand.

"Where's Tommy this weekend?" Batty asked.

"He's busy with a case," Rosalind said.

"You're so lucky," Batty said with a laugh. "You found Tommy, and everything was perfect, and you never had to go through this nonsense."

"We did break up," Rosalind said.

"Yeah, for like a second," Batty said.

Rosalind stood up and went to check the brownies. She cracked the oven, and the rush of hot air swept over her face. She breathed in the warm chocolate smell, and she didn't bother reminding Batty that it had been a whole entire year.


	8. Chapter 8: A Farewell to California

Skye stood in her apartment and surveyed the three piles in front of her. She had never realized how good she was at orchestrating an organized cross-country move. One pile was stuff she was keeping, the next was stuff she would sell or give away, the final pile was trash.

In the keep pile, Skye didn't have much. She had her clothes – jeans and t-shirts and athletic shorts. She had her running sneakers. She had her favorite textbooks, and a bunch of her papers. She had her sleek state-of-the-art laptop and some basic kitchenware.

Everything else, she could do without. The apartment didn't have much furniture to begin with – just the desk and a futon. She had never even got around to buying a bedframe for her mattress. Her bedroom was always neat as a pin, the mattress looked fine on the floor.

The potted cacti plants had been gifts from Dusek, she didn't need to bring them back. He had said even she could keep a cactus alive. He had been right, but that didn't mean Skye needed to lug prickly cacti across the country.

All in all, it looked like Skye was going to have plenty of room in her car.

Her father was worried about the long drive. He had suggested Jane fly out to California and accompany Skye on the way back. He even offered to pay for Jane's plane ticket.

"Hello? I do have a job, even if it's not traditionally respectable," Jane had said. "I can't just take a whole week off."

Skye was looking forward to the drive. She liked being alone in a car on a highway. It gave her plenty of time to think.

When she announced her decision to move back to the whole family earlier that month, there had been much rejoicing. Followed by questions about Dusek, all of which Skye had brushed off. She had blabbered on and on about MIT's faculty.

No one had asked about Dusek after that. Jane and Rosalind must have warned them off. Jane still tried to get info during their phone calls, but she knew better than to press. And Rosalind had been wonderful. She had acted like it was the most natural thing in the world that Skye and Dusek would end.

Rosalind had been so excited about Skye's relationship, especially when Tommy proposed, and Rosalind started talking about how fun a double wedding would be. Skye had fake vomited every time Rosalind mentioned the idea.

Skye thought Rosalind would be at least a tad disappointed about the end of her pipedream, but Rosalind had always been the last to judge.

Then Jane said Rosalind thought Dusek was boring.

"Rosie said that?" Skye had asked.

"Was he?" Jane asked.

Skye didn't answer. Whatever Rosalind thought, Skye appreciated her acceptance.

When Skye had emailed Dusek that she was moving back to the East coast, he had asked to meet. He wanted closure.

Skye had arranged one last coffee at Peet's over email. She thought texting might be too familiar.

"I am sorry," Dusek said. His accent was almost musical. Jeffrey might be able to explain why, but Skye couldn't. She had always just felt like she was listening to a flute play a lullaby when Dusek spoke. It had once relaxed her, after long days of studying.

"I know," Skye said. "I've accepted your apology."

"No you haven't," Dusek said. "We would be together if you had."

Skye had noticed how drops of sweat accumulated on Dusek's forehead when he was upset, but she had told herself it was shallow to get annoyed over such things. But that had been when they were dating. Now she could get annoyed over whatever she wanted.

"You kissed someone else," Skye said. "That means that you didn't _want _us to be together."

"I was drunk," Dusek said.

"You had been drinking, but you weren't drunk," Skye said. At first, she had wanted to hear every detail of the night. Now she was bored of it all. "Besides, we act on our truest desires when we are drunk. Or at least some people think that."

"Please, Skye," Dusek said. "We are good together."

"Seriously, I'm not mad," Skye said. "She was pretty and totally smart. You had a crush on her for a while, and you might miss me a little, but deep down you want other people."

Dusek had kissed an undergrad at a party. She had been in the Bio 101 class that he was a TA for. She was psychology major, and she wouldn't have been able to do a basic physics problem if her life depended on it.

"Don't throw what we had away," Dusek said. "I don't understand how you could do this."

Skye drained her coffee and stood up.

"I'm very good at throwing things away," Skye said. "Some might say I'm exceptional."


	9. Chapter 9: The Bachelorette Party

Rosalind had the idea. Usually it was Jane who came up with plans, and then it was Skye who modified the plan into a more realistic shape. Every now and then, Batty would pull an idea out of the hat.

But this time it was Rosalind.

It came to her while her hands were buried in the spring soil. She had dirt up to her elbows, and the knees of her jeans would likely never be blue again. Her hair was tied back in a red bandana, and it was warm enough that she was wearing a tank top. She was planting a row of sugar snap peas in the vegetable garden, and she was thinking about how soon it would be summer, and summer always made her want to go to the beach.

The beach was never the same anymore. When Rosalind thought of the beach, she was thinking of the trips to the cape when she was little. She was thinking of romping in the surf with her sisters, and then having sandwiches in the sand. She was thinking of dinners with their dad, and then calling a MOPS (Meeting of Penderwick Sisters) to discuss what they would do tomorrow, and who they had met.

Now, when she went to the beach, it was just lying in the sand with a book for a bit. Maybe strolling along a boardwalk. She went with Tommy, and sometimes they invited friends.

Rosalind wanted the old beach. For a second, she shrugged and accepted that you could not relive the past, so there was no use fantasizing about it. She dug into another hole.

Then she paused. Because you couldn't relive the past, but maybe you could try to create something similar.

After all, Skye would be back in Massachusetts that summer, and she didn't start at MIT until the fall. Batty would be on vacation. Rosalind could surely take some time off. She hated to do it, but she rarely took a sick day, the urban farm would survive. And Jane wouldn't want to miss shifts, but Jane could be convinced. Especially if they were all on board. When faced with such a nostalgic opportunity, Jane would fold like a deck of cards.

Rosalind's hands had frozen. She was resting back on her heels and staring into space while her mind worked at a furious pace.

She even knew where they would go. Jeffrey and Alec still went to Point Mouette in Maine all the time. The house next door to Alec's, the one Aunt Claire had rented all those years ago, she could see if it was available. Rosalind had been to Point Mouette, after Jeffrey had been reunited with his long-lost father. The Penderwicks had returned for a few summers, but it had been over ten years since they all went together. Everyone got busy with college and jobs and travel.

Birches would be perfect. Rosalind and Batty could take the bedrooms, and Jane and Skye could share the screen porch again. The two of them were as willing to sleep on a porch now as they had been at age twelve.

Rosalind stood up and brushed her hands off on her pants.

"Keep at it," she said to Ava. "I've got to make some phone calls."

Rosalind called the Birches landlady first. It would be easier to convince the others if she could say it was for sure available.

Of course it was. They could take the cabin for any time in late June or July. A week. Maybe two. Destiny was in accordance with Rosalind.

She called Skye next. Rosalind thought Skye might be hesitant to do it (she probably had some research project already set up), but once Skye committed, she would be all in.

To Rosalind's shock, Skye didn't put up any sort of fight.

"A thousand times yes," Skye said. "I'll text Jeffrey, he'll probably be up there for at least some of the time."

Batty was an easy yes as well. She welcomed the distraction from Wesley's imminent departure.

Rosalind looped her dad and Iantha in at that point. She told them she was thinking of a sort of pre-wedding sisterly retreat. A bachelorette party that would last several days and involve a lot less screaming and clubbing.

"It's a wonderful idea," Iantha said. "You girls deserve some time together."

"Birches, you might remember, it's kinda small," Rosalind said. She had to be careful here. "So we would love to show Lydia and Ben Point Mouette but maybe...not this trip."

"We already were thinking of Vermont for a few weeks," her dad said. "Just us and the younger crew."

Rosalind beamed.

Jane, of course, agreed once she heard the other sisters were all in.

"Dawn usually hires extra waitresses in the summer anyway," Jane said. "She can spare me for a week or two."

"Perfect," Rosalind said.

"Did you just think of this now?"

"Yup," Rosalind said. "It just hit me."

"Huh," Jane said. "It's a great idea, I'll give you that."

"Might you even call it destiny?" Rosalind teased.

"Ha, ha," Jane said. "Am I to expect such mockery at Point Mouette? Just let me know so I can prepare my defenses."

Rosalind hung up and pumped her fist in the air. It was happening. All teasing aside, she thought that maybe it was destiny. Or at least, Rosalind knew that the Penderwick sisters really, really needed this.


	10. Chapter 10: On Heartbreak

Jane was supposed to be taking the orders of three tables at the diner during the breakfast rush, but instead she was resting her elbows on the counter and thinking about broken hearts.

Leon had broken her heart, it was true, but it had not been as bad as her first heartbreak. That honor belonged to Burke. She thought a few boys in high school had broken her heart, but those had been mere bruises. And Dominic, the supposed "heartbreak" from that long-ago summer when she was 11, that was a simple scrape, nothing more. Burke taught her what true heartbreak was.

After Burke, her heart was already delicate, so the second rupture hadn't been as terrible. What is already broken can't really break again.

What is dead can never die, as the Ironborn say in _Game of Thrones. _Jane did not like the conniving and treacherous people of the Iron Isles, she much more identified with the brave and loyal Starks of Winterfell, but she did like the Greyjoy motto.

"What is dead can never die," Jane whispered.

"Excuse me?" a man in a suit snapped at Jane. "We've been sitting here for over ten minutes."

"Has it been ten minutes?" Jane said dreamily. She pulled her notepad out of her apron. "Sorry about that, what can I get ya?"

The man blinked at Jane's nonchalance and then began his order. She had probably just lost a tip, but maybe she could win it back with speedy food delivery and a few smiles. And no more spills.

The thing about Burke was that every time Jane told herself the story of that relationship, which had spanned three years during college, the story was very different. Sometimes it was the stuff of true romance, nights spent under the stars and falling in love at first sight. Other times, it was a study in realism – living daily life with someone, doing homework side by side in the library, meeting up for coffee between classes, talking for hours, yet never really knowing him. And then other times, it was pure horror, complete with jump scares and monsters at every turn.

They had met at a student production of _The Importance of Being Earnest. _Jane wasn't Batty, she couldn't sing, but she loved the Oscar Wilde play, and since there was no singing required, she tried out. She got the role of Cecily due to her pure enthusiasm.

Burke had been Algernon.

Yeah. Destiny.

Jane was a sophomore, and Burke was a freshman. The school was small, but they had never crossed paths until then. Jane had thought, at the beginning, that since she was a bit older and wildly popular, that she held the reins of control. She had the power.

For a while, she did. She couldn't pinpoint exactly when she began to care more than he did. It was so predictable, that's what killed her. All her life, Jane cared too much about everything.

The bell and Dawn's shout of "Order's up!" shook Jane out of her musings. She grabbed the plate of scrambled eggs with bacon and whisked it over to the man in the business suit. No spills, a happy smile, Jane was pleased with herself.

After her shift, Jane headed home to write. Her life might be boring and repetitive, but she had to admit, she was writing a lot. She had the time now. With Burke, and then with Leon, there had been so many dates and then arguments and then making up, and then more dates. Then there were the hours spent agonizing alone or with friends over what Burke or Leon was thinking. And even more hours spent on the phone with her sisters or writing long emails to Skye when Skye announced she couldn't take another 2 hour phone call.

All that time, and Jane's writing had suffered. She had still written. Jane was always writing. But it had been inconsistent, and too many of her short stories had descended into angst since all her male characters, one way or another, ended up being copies of Burke or Leon.  
Now that she had sworn off men, Jane had a good routine. She wrote over a thousand words, each day, every day.

The oath to give up on love had been a good idea. It had.

And yet Jane sometimes wondered...She had always believed that in order to write, one had to live. A writer needed real life experiences to put to the page.

And right now, with all her shifts at the restaurant, then walks to her apartment, then long hours of writing – was Jane really living at all anymore?


	11. Chapter 11: The Call of the Summer

Mr. Penderwick shifted over a few more boxes, and Skye could at last see her old bed.

"Back in your childhood bedroom," Mr. Penderwick said. "I hope you're not taking it too hard, I was just reading an article about how so many adults in their twenties have to move back in with their parents. The regression can be soul-draining, allegedly."

"I'm not _moving back in,_" Skye said. "I'm about to get my PhD for crying out loud, is that regression?"

"Depends on your perspective," Ben said from down the hall.

Skye rolled her eyes and tossed her last bag down on the floor.

"Seriously, I'm already considering going to Boston and moving in with Jane, if you guys keep it up."

Iantha appeared with fresh bedsheets in hand.

"This from the girl who complained for years about sharing a room with Jane," Iantha said. "California really has changed you."

"No way," Skye said. She shook out her legs and stretched her arms. "I'm gonna go for a run, I need to get my blood pumping."

As Skye exited the house and took off down Gardam Street, she wondered at how she had forgotten what it was like to be inside that home – all warmth and siblings and people coming in and going out, always someone to bicker with or talk to for comfort. And this with only Lydia and Ben at home. Back when she was in high school, it had been six kids in the house, plus all her soccer friends and Jane's cohort of admiring boys.

Skye smiled wryly to herself and picked up the pace. She knew she had possessed admirers too. Brainy boys who were drawn to her seriousness and athletic boys who liked to scrimmage her in soccer. They took one look at her gleaming blonde hair and long legs, and they all fell. Skye would sometimes wish she didn't have any looks at all, but then she would take that wish back. She liked looking like her mother, she always had.

She wasn't vain, but she got a thrill deep in her stomach every time a relative or old friend of her father's would say: "But my God, she looks just like Elizabeth, it's remarkable."

Skye was good at pushing the boys away at sixteen. She had better things to do. Jane could have them, and Jane had always wanted the suitors. Jane gleefully consoled Skye's leftovers, although Jane would never deign to get serious with a guy who had liked Skye first. Jane was no one's second place.

A mile into the run, Skye began to break a sweat. It was June, and the summer heat had arrived in Massachusetts at last. Skye grinned and picked up the pace once more.


	12. Chapter 12: Still Burning

Batty told Wesley that she didn't really want to say goodbye. That was a lie, but Batty felt it would make things exponentially easier if she didn't have to see Wesley one last time.

He was leaving the day before the traditional end of year recital the freshmen had put together. He had asked Batty if she wanted him to stay to watch her, but Batty explained it would just distract her if she knew he was in the audience.

She also was scared that Wesley would suspect her performance of "Burn" was about him. Because it totally was.

Her instructor said it was cliche to do a _Hamilton_ song, but he had to admit Batty sang it well. Plus the show would be touring for ages, so it was just smart to have Eliza in her arsenal for later auditions.

Batty had recently told Jane she would rather play Angelica Schuyler, but Jane said that with Batty's doe-eyed visage, she had to be Eliza. Skye would make a good Angelica, Jane mused, if only Skye could carry a tune.

"I'm an actress," Batty had argued. "I can _act _like Skye and Angelica."

"No one can act that much," Jane had said with a shrug.

Before Batty took the stage at the recital, she briefly imagined what she would do if Wesely had shown up. If he was out there in the shadows, in the back. Wesley was too considerate to sit front and center. If Batty didn't want to be distracted, Wesley would stay hidden.

But he would come up to her afterward, as she lingered in the lobby, giving hugs to the fellow performers.

"Batty," he would say.

She would turn and gasp in surprise.

"You sang wonderfully," Wesley would say. "And it's made me reconsider. I can be a great artist right here in New York. I'll never leave. In fact, let's start looking for apartments together."

Batty shook her head hard to get rid of the indulgent daydream. She was being horrendously silly.

Besides, she knew for a fact that Wesley would not be in the audience. She had told him that she didn't really want to say goodbye, but he had shown up at her dorm room door the morning before. He was about to hit the road.

"I hate going against your wishes," Wesley had said. "But goodbyes are important. You told me that once."

Batty stood there in her snowflake pajama pants and blinked. She had been trying to erase the image of Wesley, but how could she ever when he was so handsome and nice and real.

"No I didn't," Batty said.

"Yes, you did. You told me about that summer you met your family's friend Jeffrey, and how you were all so sad to say goodbye at the end, but Jeffrey just said 'Goodbye for now' and you thought that was the best thing ever."

"But is this a Goodbye for Now?" Batty asked.

Wesley looked at the ground and grimaced.

"Well," he said. "Here's looking at you, kid."

Wesley hated to engage in overused lines or artistic trends, but even he loved _Casablanca. _Batty laughed, just once, and they hugged.

After she closed the door, Batty turned and started crying, and she felt like she hadn't stopped until coming to the theater for the recital.

Her roommate had even stirred herself from her indifference to bring Batty some cookies and ask if she was ok.

"I need to stop crying," Batty said through a deluge of tears.

"Nah," her roommate said. "For this one, you just need to cry it out."

The audience clapped for the previous act, and it was Batty's time to go on. She stepped into the lights, and let herself imagine, just for a millisecond, Naomi Watkins, her blonde classmate, singing the opening lines.

Then Batty opened her mouth and began.

She would sing this song, and she would pour into it all her hurt and pain over Wesley, and then she would be done. This wasn't the eighteenth century, after all. Women didn't have to marry the first man they met anymore. They didn't have to say vows and just be stuck with one guy for the entirety of life. And Batty was healthy. She ate her vegetables and she didn't smoke, so she had every intention of living a very long time.

So the missing Wesley was going to end with the final note. The audience would clap, Batty would bow, and then it would be summer. And summer was going to fix everything.


	13. Chapter 13: Point Mouette At Last

There was a long discussion of whose car they should take. It all transpired via the "Penderwick Sisters (Older)" group text. The group had been created years ago, but in all its history, it had never been so active. There was also a family group text that included everybody, a Penderwick Sisters group that included Lydia, and a Penderwicks Siblings group that included Lydia and Ben. And, not many knew, there was a final group text called MOOPS which was just Rosalind, Skye and Jane. Some things were sacred, after all.

Jane was emotionally attached to her old sedan, which she called Alfonso. But Rosalind was positive Alfonso, however noble and benign, would never make it up to Maine.

Rosalind said they would take her car. But Jane said that Tommy would probably need the car while they were gone, at some point or another.

Skye contributed by saying that she had _seen _Jane's car a few weeks ago when Jane visited Gardam Street, and Skye was not getting into that hunk of tin.

Batty pointed out that Skye's jeep was perfect, if Skye wasn't so paranoid about the potential of anyone other than Skye driving it.

Jane said it wasn't like they were going to be using the car a lot once they got there, they could get all the groceries by walking to the Moose Market. If Skye was so particular, she would just do the drive there and back.

"Is that an admission that Alfonso will definitely NOT make it to Point Mouette?" Rosalind asked.

At long last, Skye caved and said that yes, they could use her jeep. But Batty was not allowed behind the wheel under any circumstance. Skye had never forgotten an unprotected left turn incident when Batty was sixteen and practicing for the test with Skye. Batty had ended up failing the driving test three times before she got her license.

And so it was that on that early July morning, Jane had a heavy heart at bidding farewell to Alfonso, but she knew her pain would be eased with each mile that brought them all closer to Point Mouette.

At long last, they were nearing the end. Jane was riding shotgun while Rosalind took the homestretch. Skye had driven the first hour, and Jane the next two. Rosalind insisted that as the oldest, she had to do her part.

Jane had been flipping through the radio, but all the stations were either static or on commercials. Commercials annoyed Skye. And Skye was always very close to the brink of annoyance during a long road trip. Jane turned around to check on the back seat.

To her surprise, it was all smooth sailing. Batty was drumming her fingers gently to some secret rhythm and gazing out the window, and Skye had her book open in her lap, but was also looking at the coastal Maine scenery.

There was a time when Skye and Batty in a backseat together for more than an hour would have spelled trouble. Jane found herself still expecting an explosion from Skye and tears from Batty, even though the two had been on far better terms since Skye was seventeen and it was finally explained to her that their mother Elizabeth Penderwick had not died _because _of Batty's birth. The two events were sadly linked, but not causal.

Skye turned towards Jane and smiled.

"I'm starting to recognize things, aren't you?" Skye said.

"Not specific things, but the feeling, yes," Jane said. "We're getting closer and closer to the end of the point. We're going out, out, out into the ocean."

"I feel like I'm about to drive off the edge of the world," Rosalind said. "I like it."

Jane turned towards Rosalind. Her sunglasses were pushed back on her head, and her curls fell gently around her tan shoulders. Jane realized that Rosalind's brow was smooth. Jane was so used to seeing Rosalind worrying about something, usually her sisters, but for once Rosalind seemed calm.

It occurred to Jane that maybe Rosalind could use someone worrying about her.

"Moose Market!" Batty shouted. "There it is, there it is!"

"Ah, I can't wait for those pies," Skye said.

"I'm gonna start making a list for our first grocery run," Jane said. "Bread, salami, strawberry-rhubarb pie –"

"Blackberry pie too," Skye said.

"Chips, salsa, and wine," Jane said.

"Lots of wine!" Rosalind said. "Remember, this _is _my bachelorette party!"

"Here's the inn," Batty said.

"You still keep in touch with Meredith?" Jane asked. "You should text her!"

Batty shrugged and said she didn't have her number.

"It's important to keep in touch with old friends," Jane said.

"Well," Batty said. "I'm bad at female friendship I think."

Skye burst out laughing, and Rosalind joined in.

"Are you kidding?" Jane asked.

"What? I am," Batty said.

"We're the Penderwick sisters," Jane said. "We _are _female friendships!"

"No, we're sisters," Batty said.

"It's because she got a _boyfriend _the first week of college," Rosalind said. "Classic."

At Rosalind's snarky tone, Skye stopped laughing. Jane squirmed in her seat. Rosalind just kept staring out the front windshield. She knew she had gone too far, and she pursed her lips. Then again, maybe she hadn't gone too far, she had just gone farther than Rosalind ever went.

"I mean," Rosalind said. "I remember in college _every _year, there would be that _one _freshman girl who threw her _whole_ being into some older guy who smiled at her the first day, and that was it. She didn't do anything else, she didn't make any other friends, he was her world. And sure, sometimes it worked out and they got married or whatever. But most times, it all ended, sooner rather than later. And what do you expect? Of course it ended."

Batty looked like someone had just poured a bucket of frigid ocean water over her head.

"Batty _did_ other things," Skye said. "She was in that musical, the cowboys one."

Jane flashed her eyes from Rosalind, this new and lethal creature, over to Skye, strangely trying to throw Batty a lifeline, and back to poor wounded Batty, staring at her eldest sister like Rosalind had suddenly grown three heads.

Jane decided that the world had gone topsy-turvy, and now they could no longer rely on the Oldest Available Penderwick, and maybe not even on the Second OAP. So Jane did the only thing she could think of.

"We're here!" Jane yelled. "Birches!"

Within seconds, all four sisters tumbled out of the jeep and ran to embrace their salvation.


	14. Chapter 14: Call of the Mermaid Queen

Birches was everything Skye remembered it to be. It was adorable and blue and a bunch of other lovely and summery things.

Skye mostly liked the view.. She stood right in the middle of the living room and looked out the massive windows right to the surf.

"The sea calls to us," Jane said. "Just like it did all those years ago."

"But we're the adults now," Skye said. "We've got to check the kitchen and bedrooms and whatnot."

"And check on Rosalind too, probably," Jane murmured.

The two sisters slowly turned their heads towards the master bedroom which Rosalind had disappeared into with her duffel bag.

"Was that normal?" Skye said. "I mean, has she been like that lately?"

"I have no idea," Jane said. "I haven't spent a ton of time with her of late, and especially not with her and Batty."

"We should maybe check on Batty too," Skye said. "Although God knows, I've said worse to her."

"Nah, that was bad," Jane said. "She's never heard Rosalind talk like that to her."

Skye scuffed the toe of her sneaker against the worn wooden floorboards. She thought of the two other sisters alone in their rooms.

"We should check on them," Skye said. "But first – what was that thing you say about the sea calling us?"

"The Mermaid Queen calls to us with her siren wail," Jane said.

Skye grinned and opened the backdoor to the deck. Within seconds, the two young women were clambering down the steps. They tore off their shoes and bolted across the sand and into the roaring surf.

Skye felt the cold of the water slosh her up to her thighs. She turned to Jane, who was twirling in a circle with her arms outspread and her head tipped back.

In one swift move, Skye bumped her shoulder against Jane's back, and Jane went sprawling.

Jane came up spluttering and shrieking.

"Payback for that time Grover made me fall," Skye said. "And you just watched."

Jane pushed herself up and lunged, shoving Skye hard into a particularly big wave.

Several minutes later, the two women made their way slowly back into the cabin, fat drops of water trailing from their arms onto the deck.

Rosalind was lounging on an Adirondack chair.

"Having fun?" Rosalind said.

"The Ocean waters have restored my spirits greatly," Jane said. "Mayhaps a plunge might bring you clarity as well?"

"We need to do a grocery trip," Rosalind said.

"I'll go," Skye said.

In five minutes, Skye had changed into a dry t-shirt and shorts and had pounded on Batty's door and demanded that Batty assist in the grocery quest.


	15. Chapter 15: Moose Market

Skye's "sisterly concern" face looked very different than Rosalind's.

Batty had never bothered to think about the exact shape and defining aspects of Rosalind's face until now. Batty had never appreciated how Rosalind tilted her head to the side and furrowed her brow and asked Batty with her eyes to tell her what was wrong and that no matter what the issue was, Rosalind could help fix it.

As for Skye's "sisterly concern" face, this was a world debut.

What killed Batty was how genuine Skye's face was. It wasn't the pained, slightly awkward face Skye put on when she knew something was wrong with Batty and no one else was around to fix it so Skye had to at least try. That face just looked like Skye was sucking on a lemon.

As Skye and Batty walked slowly up the road towards Moose Market, Skye's face was open and soft. Her mouth, usually drawn in a tight line of concentration, was relaxed and ever so slightly angled into a soft and inviting smile. Batty would never have guessed that Skye possessed an inviting smile.

And when Skye was concerned – truly and sincerely concerned – her eyes looked like deep wells of unassailable strength. Batty liked that. Those fierce eyes could protect her against any horrible feeling. Those eyes would come out fighting for her.

"You didn't waste your freshman year," Skye said.

That was another difference between Skye and Rosalind. Rosalind usually waited for Batty to voice her sadness, or Rosalind would ask gentle questions. Skye went straight to the crucial heart of the matter.

"You did loads of amazing stuff," Skye continued. "And we're all so proud of you, seriously. And I'm sure Wesley added a lot to your life. I bet he was great, while it lasted."

"You met Wesley," Batty said. "Don't you have an opinion on whether he was great or not?"

"I met him for two days six months ago," Skye said. "I've made enough snap judgments about people that ended up being so wrong that I've learned to get to know people a bit more these days before I start announcing my opinion."

"Like with Jeffrey?" Batty asked. "When you originally thought he was snobby and rich and horrible?"

"Exactly," Skye said with a smile.

To the right of the sisters, there was a slope that dropped sharply down to the shore. Batty peered at the rocks and shuddered. Jane had once fallen down that slope, and Batty still remembered the gore of Jane's bloody nose. That was a boy's fault as well.

The Penderwick women, as a whole, were not their best selves when boys entered the equation.

"You were smart," Batty said. "You didn't have a boyfriend in college, and you were top of your class and won all those research awards and had the best time."

"I did have a good time," Skye said. "And I definitely don't regret not having a boyfriend."

Batty nodded.

"But everyone is different," Skye said. "I didn't _want _a boyfriend. But if you want one, of course you should go for it. If you're ready to fall in love and all that."

They stopped outside Moose Market, and Batty tried to swallow her tears. She was too old to cry in public.

"But it hurts," Batty mumbled.

"Yeah, but it also is the most amazing thing ever, when you let someone in," Skye said. "Or so I've heard."

"You let Dusek in, didn't you?" Batty asked.

Skye peered up at the big wooden moose.

"Now that you ask, I don't think I ever did," Skye said. "So you're hurting now, but it only means that you had a special thing with Wesley. I'm not hurting, but that's just because I never actually got to experience an intense connection like you did."

Batty was shocked. She had thought Dusek and Skye were perfect for each other. Everyone had said so. Because Skye studied astrophysics, and Dusek studied the marine biology. And because...Now that she mulled it over, Batty couldn't think of a single other reason.

"So, the pain is a good thing," Skye said. "It means you let your heart soar to greater heights. Or whatever."

"Jesus, you wanna write that down for Jane," Batty said with a smile.

Skye lightly punched her shoulder, and they hopped up the steps and into the store.


	16. Chapter 16: A Quarter-Life Crisis

Rosalind wondered what would happen if she turned towards Jane and just told her the problem was with Tommy. Or not with Tommy. With their relationship. With the wedding. Or with Rosalind's fear over the wedding. With Rosalind's uncertainty about everything.

Jane was scribbling fiercely in her notebook. Rosalind knew that if Rosalind said the problem was with Tommy, Jane would blink three times, like she always did when the world wasn't aligning with her idea of it.

In fact, if Rosalind said the problem was Tommy, Jane's brain might actually stop. Her heart might cease beating. It would not compute.

For Jane, Rosalind and Tommy were the epitome of romance, love, life, companionship, the whole shebang.

Jane had actually once told Rosalind that whenever Jane had to write about an ideal couple or a romantic scene, she always used Rosalind and Tommy as a model.

Rosalind could not rob her sister of such a valuable writing tool.

Anyway, Rosalind knew the problem wasn't Tommy. She loved Tommy.

The problem was her. She was pretty sure she was having a full-blown quarter-life crisis. She adored the urban farm, but was it really what she wanted to be doing with the rest of her life? Or even the next year of her life?

And Rosalind knew Tommy wanted kids. Rosalind wanted kids. She had always wanted kids ever since Batty was the most precious baby, and Rosalind had held her night and day and...basically been a mother, at nine years old.

Was that really fair? Rosalind had been a mother since she was a child, and she had loved it, but was it fair that she had never gotten the chance to _not _be a mother?

Rosalind and Tommy were going to get married, and then soon, very soon, within a year, people were going to start asking about little footsteps and buns in ovens and stirrings in the womb and all the other stupid phrases people used when they wanted to pry into a couple's private life. And because everyone was asking, and because they did want kids, and because Rosalind got older every year, and 30 was right around the corner, and her biological clock was ticking, and they did want more than one after all, because kids without siblings were weird and lonely, so since time was flying, they were just going to do it and get pregnant.

Then Rosalind's youthful heydey was going to be over before it really got the chance to start. She would be a mother. And honestly, Rosalind had been a mother for almost 20 years already.

And, for the first time, Rosalind was admitting that she was pissed about it.

A small tiny voice whispered in the back of Rosalind's head. It told her that maybe it was her own fault.

_You didn't _have _to be so motherly_, the voice whispered. _You could have been like Skye and Jane_, _free and independent and happy and sisters, _just _sisters._

Rosalind shook her head. She looked at the ocean and let the crash of the waves wash away that voice. It wasn't that simple. Rosalind had to be the oldest. There was no other way to be.

She turned to Jane, hunched over her notepad.

"I hope they get red wine," Rosalind said.

"Batty likes white," Jane said. "And Skye says she's gotten good at making cocktails, she had a bartender friend teach her."  
"Well, something for everyone," Rosalind said.


	17. Chapter 17: Penderwick Family Honor

When Skye and Batty returned (with plenty of food and an assortment of wine), peace seemed to reassert itself.

Batty helped Rosalind make spaghetti carbonara, while Skye and Jane put fresh sheets on all the beds.

The first summer at Point Mouette, Skye and Jane had shared one leg of the screen porch, and Jeffrey had taken the other. Jeffrey would be up with Alec later that week, but he would be staying at his father's house, so Skye and Jane each got a leg.

Jane put sheets on the spare bed in Skye's leg anyway, just to have the option.

Skye smiled and corrected Jane's sloppy work with the fitted sheet.

"I love this screen porch," Jane said. "But it's not my favorite vacation bedroom."

"The attic room at Arundel, right?" Skye asked.

"I was always inspired there," Jane said.

Skye nodded. She had loved her clean bright bedroom at the Arundel cottage. It had been the first time in her life that she didn't have to share with Jane.

"Batty seems in better spirits," Jane said as she flopped down on the bed. "But I could not plumb into the depths of Rosalind's apparent despair to find the source. Maybe something happened at work."

"It's Tommy," Skye said.

Jane gasped aloud, like she was some delicate lady in a period drama. Skye rolled her eyes.

"Never!" Jane said. "Never did any woman love a man like Rosalind loves Tommy."

"I'm not saying they're not in love," Skye said. "Although, let's face it, it's a little bit weird that they've been dating since they were thirteen. Admit it."

"I admit," Jane said slowly, "That it is not traditional if we're going off the post-modern twenty-first century ideal of love."

"Rosie is jumpy about the wedding," Skye said. "And I'm going to find out why and how to fix it."

Jane kicked the leg of the bed.

"She had better not run," Jane said. "I've been working too hard on making her dress _and _all the bridesmaid dresses, in all the different colors."

"We're in different colors?" Skye asked. "What color am I?"

"_Blue_," Jane said. "Obviously."

After dinner, the four sisters moved out to the deck to watch the sunset with a bottle of wine.

"I love how long the days are," Skye said. "I missed seasons, there are none in California."

"We're so glad you're back," Rosalind said.

"Why did you return now?" Batty asked.

Skye shrugged and tapped her barefoot against the planks.

"It felt like it was time," Skye said. "I felt like I needed to return. Like I was needed back here maybe. I know it sounds stupid."

Rosalind looked at Skye with big eyes. Then she took a deep breath.

"MOPS, come to order," Rosalind said.

"Second it," Skye said.

"Third it," Jane said.

"Fourth it," Batty said.

"All swear to keep secret what is said here, even from Daddy and Iantha, unless you think someone might do something truly bad."

Rosalind put her fist into the air. Skye quickly followed, then Jane, then Batty.

"This I swear, by the Penderwick Family Honor," they said.

They broke their fists apart and looked at Rosalind.

"I don't really have anything specific to say," Rosalind said. "I just wanted to thank you all for coming out here with me, and being so helpful with the wedding planning."

"Of course," Jane said with a quick glance at Skye.

"And I want to thank you, Rosie" Skye said. "For having this idea and putting it all together."

They waited a beat, but Rosalind came forth with no great secrets. So they poured the wine and chatted of other things.


	18. Chapter 18: The Bridal Vestments

The next morning, Jane wanted to work on the screen porch, but she had to admit it was risky to keep her sister's wedding dress in an area where only a thin screen would protect it from the vicious elements. It would just take one bad storm to rip apart that screen and wreak havoc on Rosalind's beautiful ivory gown. So Jane propped her dress dummies up in the living room. It wasn't like the sisters would spend too much time there, with the call of the beautiful outdoors. Skye was already off on a 7 mile run, and Rosalind was walking along the beach to get coffee and pastries at the inn. Batty, the teenager, was still sleeping.

Jane was left in peace to perfect her masterpieces.

Although now that Jane surveyed the wedding dress in light of Skye's recent suspicion, she was thinking that maybe it could use a redesign. Something more suitable for a runaway bride. A flowing three foot train perhaps? To add drama?

Jane was momentarily enraptured with the image of a lovely Rosalind fleeing across the Arundel lawn, with her curls falling loose from her updo.

Jane shook her head and pricked her finger with a needle. Focus, focus, focus.

Rosalind's dress was nearly done, it just needed some final touches. Jane was going to stitch little pink roses along the hem, the neckline, and the short cap sleeves.

The real work was with the bridesmaid dresses. Rosalind didn't want to be a demanding tyrannical bride that made her bridesmaid wear hideous dresses. So she had asked Jane to make dresses that suited all three of the sisters.

It was an impossible task. Never did three women possess more different senses of style than Jane, Skye and Batty. Skye would walk down the aisle in cargo pants and a black crop top if she had her way, and she would probably look amazing doing it. And Batty had spent too much time in drama departments, she liked vivid colors and extravagant designs.

Since neither could possibly be happy, Jane had decided to make the dress that she wanted to wear. It featured a tight bodice that descended into delicate poofs of voile. Skye's was a light blue, the exact color of a summer sky. Jane's own was a light green, the shade of new buds in spring, and Batty's was violet. Lydia was getting a shorter version of the dress in pink.

Skye might say the dress was too girly, but Skye could wear whatever black get-up she wanted to the rehearsal dinner.

Jane knew that Skye was going to look gorgeous in the bridesmaid dress. As Jane ran a hand over the skirt, she thought that Jeffrey might actually faint when he saw Skye in it.

Jeffrey had vowed back in college that he had given up. He had driven to visit Jane, and over several beers at the student pub, he told her he had met a new girl, he was in love, for real this time. He was going to leave Skye alone.

Jane had nodded along and let Jeffrey buy her as many rounds as he wanted, but she didn't believe him for a second. Skye was just far enough away that Jeffrey was able to convince himself he had forgotten.

Jane, having a sensitive and perceptive heart, knew when two souls were destined for each other. She herself had once harbored a secret wish that Jeffrey would direct his attentions towards her. Jane would appreciate his romantic overtures and musical odes. But it was clear that Jeffrey didn't just want Skye, he needed Skye. And she needed him.

Then again, Jane had been wrong about romance before, and she would be wrong again. Maybe Skye and Jeffrey would just be friends.


	19. Chapter 19: Arundel Brownies

When Batty emerged from her bedroom, she found Rosalind in the kitchen, surveying the cabinets.

"I think I'll bake something this afternoon," Rosalind said. "But not brownies. That's an Arundel thing."

Rosalind smiled warmly at Batty, as if she meant to erase what had happened yesterday. Batty wished she could forget it. After talking with Skye, Batty had tried to put it out of her mind.

But then she got to thinking over Skye's bizarre words of wisdom, and Batty realized that while Skye had comforted her greatly over Wesley, Skye hadn't actually explained Rosalind's sudden cruelty. Skye hadn't even attempted to explain that.

"Point Mouette Chocolate Chip Cookies?" Rosalind suggested.

"S'mores," Batty said. "When we were here that first summer, we made s'mores. It was Jane's idea, she wanted a fire on the beach so bad. Skye thought it was a safety hazard but we shouted her down."

"Ha," Rosalind said. "Skye and her anxiety."

"Anxieties keep you alive," Skye announced as she bounded in the kitchen.

It was only mid-morning, but Skye had already completed her run, made eggs and bacon, and then showered. Her face was glowing. She laid out the plan for the day.

Jane was en route to the Moose Market to get some sandwich materials and lemonade for a picnic lunch. They were going to spend the day laying in the sun and reading and kicking the soccer ball around on the beach. Then they would drive to town for dinner at a seafood place Jeffrey recommended.

"And Jeffrey will get here day after tomorrow," Skye said.

Batty's heart leapt at the reminder. She hadn't seen Jeffrey in ages, and she definitely wanted to discuss her musical growth. She could sing a few songs while he played, he always had great recommendations for her voice.

"We should call mom and dad at some point too," Batty said.

Skye stared at Batty.

"What?" Batty said. "Why are you looking at me funny."

"I always forget that you call her mom," Skye murmured.

Batty squirmed.

"I was five when they married," Batty said.

"I know," Skye said in a gentle voice. "It's not a bad thing, I just forget how young you were."

Forty-five minutes later, the four sisters trekked down the steps to the beach. Jane held a bag of sandwiches, Rosalind carried towels and books, Batty had a big blanket, and Skye was tossing the soccer ball.

"Alright, I say we play a game of 2v2 to get us nice and sweaty before jumping in the water," Skye said.

"I'm wearing a dress!" Rosalind said. But she would play, Batty knew it. Rosalind never said no to a game when they needed her.

"We could do the usual of Rosie and me versus Jane and Batty," Skye said. "But then Jane isn't quite what she used to be."

Jane had once been the untouchable soccer star of Cameron, Massachusetts. Skye had played with her through high school and was a reliable defensive player, but Jane was the wunderkind. Hence, Jane was usually paired with Batty, who was next to useless on the soccer field.

Jane had stopped soccer after high school though, and Skye had continued playing intramural and in rec leagues. Without practice, Jane's natural talent, as well as her youthful speed, had waned. Nowadays Skye could easily outplay her.

"Ha ha," Jane said. "Be careful, if pushed, I might just resurrect Mick."

In the end, they decided to keep the old teams. Jane did manage to dust off some of her old footwork, but soon Rosalind and Skye dominated. Rosie had been more of a basketball player, but she could outrun both Jane and Batty, thanks to all her spin classes.

At long last, the four girls threw themselves down on the sand and prepared to enter the ocean.

"You need to start working out," Skye said to a breathless Batty.

"I took Dance for Theater last semester," Batty said. "That counts."

"I could give you some great core workouts," Skye said. "You too, Jane."

"I need not muscles of my body, I must exercise my mind first and foremost," Jane said.

"Mind and body work in harmony," Skye said.

"Oh, let's go in already," Rosalind said.

The girls rose as a unit and pulled off their clothes to reveal swimsuits. They all grasped hands and sprinted towards the surf.


	20. Chapter 20: The Old Friend

Skye was itching to ask Rosalind about Tommy and the wedding, but the first day passed so peacefully, and the next day Rosalind was so cheerful about baking, and Batty was singing, and Jane insisted they go on a long hike around the point and then make a dinner together, and Skye never found a moment.

Anyway, Rosalind would come to her if she was ready to talk. Wouldn't she? They all went to their oldest sister in times of need, surely Rosie knew she could expect the same thing.

By the third day, the girls could talk of nothing but Jeffrey's arrival. Since graduating from college, Jeffrey had been traveling all over for gigs. He had even been in Europe for over a year. Most recently, he had hung around New York and Boston, crashing on friend's couches and at Alec's. He had grown tall and handsome, and he and Alec looked more like brothers these days. It always surprised Skye until she remembered that Alec and Mrs. Tifton had been barely twenty when they had Jeffrey. Younger than she was.

The more the Penderwicks had gotten to know Alec, the more boat rides he took them on, the more birthday parties he attended in Cameron, the more baffled they had been by his youthful love affair with Mrs. Tifton. For while Alec had remained as kind and affable as he had been that first summer at Point Mouette, Mrs. Tifton had, if anything, gotten worse. She had divorced the horrible Dexter Dupree, only to marry another villainous husband. When that didn't work out, there was yet another that ended with an even more inflammatory divorce. The last one had stolen all the treasures from the Arundel attic and sold them. After that, Mrs. Tifton fled Arundel (too many bitter memories) and spent most of her time in her New York apartment. Jeffrey now managed the estate, which was why anyone had even considered having Rosalind's wedding at Arundel. The Penderwicks had been clearly and irrevocably banned after the first summer.

"One of life's greatest injustices," Jane used to call it.

To which Rosalind or Skye would say: "Well, we did ruin that garden competition. And yell at her that one time. And we did encourage her only son to try to run away."

But with Mrs. Tifton off the property, Jeffrey had suggested the wedding be held at Arundel. Rosalind had admitted that she still considered the Berkshire estate one of the most beautiful places on earth, and after that Jeffrey had insisted.

Jeffrey was due to arrive in the the mid-afternoon. That morning, Skye was out on the deck with a fantasy novel on her lap. She wasn't reading though.

Skye kept lifting her eyes from the pages to stare out at the ocean and think about the last time she had seen Jeffrey.

He had been in San Francisco for a quick show. Skye and Dusek had taken the train to the city to watch him, and afterwards they had grabbed a drink at a nearby bar in the Mission.

"It's good to see you," Skye had told Jeffrey after the show. "You should make the trek out here more often."

"There's good food I guess," Jeffrey had said. "But the music scene is pretty dead, it's edged out by all the tech."

"Tech is the future though," Dusek responded.

"And you think art has no place in the future?" Jeffrey asked.

Skye had chuckled, but Dusek had just look confused.

An hour in, Dusek had started to say they had better head back to Palo Alto. It was late and the last CalTrain ran at midnight.

Dusek headed to close the tab, and Jeffrey had leaned close to Skye. She remembered he had been so close, Skye looked to count the freckles on his nose, like she had when they were younger. Only most of Jeffrey's freckles were gone.

"Come on, Skye," Jeffrey had said. "I'm only here for one night, let's make the most of it. We could go out dancing, or explore Dolores Park at night, or head into the Castro. Or go all the way down to the water and watch the sun rise, whatever adventure you choose."

Skye had been tempted, more tempted than she could ever admit. But she told Jeffrey that she had a lot of work, and Dusek was tired.

"So let Dusek go home," Jeffrey had said.

Skye had broken his gaze and stared into her empty glass.

"The Old Skye would say yes," Jeffrey said. "She would have said yes in a heartbeat. She would have laughed at this boring New Skye."

His words and his challenge cut Skye to the core.

"I haven't changed," Skye said. "There's no Old Skye or New Skye."

"Maybe not," Jeffrey said. "But I miss the Old Skye."

On the deck, Skey was jolted from her memory by a honking horn. It couldn't be Jeffrey, not yet, but then Jane was shouting, and Batty was scampering out of her room where she had been practicing.

Skye leapt up and joined Rosalind at the door. And there Jeffrey was, leaning out the window of the car that Alec was driving.

"I was too excited," Jeffrey yelled. "I had to get here as soon as I could!"

Skye's breath caught a little, and then she shook away her fear and ran out with her sisters.

In a flash, they were out in the driveway, and Jeffrey was out of the car, and they were hugging and laughing and all together again.


	21. Chapter 21: The Place of Music

For a while, they all stood around yammering about what they wanted to do and what they should do first – go for a swim, or take the boat out, and Jeffrey should make stuffed bell peppers to honor their first summer.

Batty hung back and waited. She knew how it went: Jeffrey would get sucked into Jane and Skye's adventures first, he would compliment Rosie until she turned red, and then he would remember Batty.

She didn't mind being fourth though, because when Jeffrey finally did get to her, he gave her all his attention. And, Batty sometimes flattered herself, she and Jeffrey were able to connect on a deeper level. Skye could play soccer with him for hours, and Jane could talk his ear off, and he would always respect Rosalind's advice above all else, but only Batty could sing. Only Batty could reach him in the special place of music and mentorship.

They ended up running down to the beach for a swim and soccer game. Then they lounged for a while. Jane talked about the novel she was working on.

Then when Rosalind and Skye moved onto make dinner, Jeffrey and Batty headed over to Alec's living room.

"Let's see what ya got," Jeffrey said.

He played the piano, and Batty sang.

And at last, her heart was full.


	22. Chapter 22: Old Stories

Sometime after dinner, Alec drifted back to his place, and Rosalind turned in early. Jane dashed away to the porch bedroom to write, and Batty retreated to her bedroom with a book, so it was just Skye and Jeffrey out on the deck with a bottle of red wine. Part of Skye wondered if her sisters had quietly disappeared on purpose. Jane, ever the romantic, surely had.

They talked for ages in the dark. Jeffrey told his favorite story about how Skye had yelled about how she didn't want to make brownies for a snobby rich boy the day after they had met. He had told it a million times until it had become more of a legend. Skye remembered it for what it was – an outburst from an angry girl who couldn't control her temper and was judgmental to the core.

Jeffrey liked to glamorize the way Skye always said whatever was on her mind. Jeffrey had always wanted to be like that, but he never had the guts.

Then Skye had come blazing into his life, like a warrior heroine.

When Jeffrey finished that story, Skye had told the story of him and the bull. She had been so mad at him, but she knew an alliance was necessary to save Batty from the raging monster.

They moved past the Arundel summer to other memories. They talked about all of Jane's boyfriends in high school. They chuckled over Rosalind's various hairstyles in college. They carefully danced around the fights Skye and Jeffrey had in high school, when Jeffrey wanted to date her. He had apologized afterwards. He had admitted it had been wrong for him to push for something Skye clearly didn't want.

Skye had never explained that it wasn't that she didn't _want it_. It was that she wasn't ready. And maybe she had wanted it too much. She had known she would mess it up. She had known it would end with blood on the floor. Probably hers.

At last, they ran out of stories for a moment. They stared in silence out at the stars.

"I'm glad your back," Jeffrey said.

"Me too," Skye said.

"Whatever the reason," Jeffrey said. "You belong back here."

"Hmm," Skye said. "My old friend Jeffrey would ask me straight out what happened. He wouldn't dance around the reason."

"You're right," Jeffrey said. "So spill, Skye. What happened?"

"Dusek cheated on me," Skye said.

"The asshole," Jeffrey said.

Skye shrugged and stared out at the great blackness. She remembered being a kid and trying to find a black hole up there in the vast dark.

"I wouldn't have spent three years with an asshole," she said. "You know that."

"Don't defend him," Jeffrey said. He reached out and touched Skye's forearm, ever so gently. Skye had the faintest glimmer of blonde peach fuzz dusting her arm. It seemed to gleam in the dark.

"I'm not, but I don't think I was a very good girlfriend," Skye said. "I was kinda complacent. He was smart and nice and easy to be around, so I just went with it. I should have stopped and wondered if it was actually working. But I didn't because only part of me was really in it. The rest of me was focused on school and research and other things. I think I spent more time thinking about my rec soccer team, honestly."

Jeffrey nodded and smiled. That was his Skye, tough as nails.

"Well, you may be right about the other things, but Dusek wasn't smart," Jeffrey said. "Any guy who had even a _part _of you, and then threw it away is an idiot."

Skye's brow furrowed and she stared hard at her knees.

"Thanks," Skye said.

"Oh my god," Jeffrey said. "Are you crying?"

"Shut up," Skye said.

Quick as a whip, she whisked a tear away and then punched Jeffrey in the shoulder.

He smiled and punched her right back. Skye relished the pain.


	23. Chapter 23: Scandal Arrives

Tommy called early in the morning. He knew Rosalind woke up before six, even when she was on vacation. He knew she loved the quiet of dawn.

Somehow, her sisters had picked up the habit. Rosalind and Jane were enjoying a cup of coffee on the deck. Rosalind took hers black. Jane filled her mug halfway with milk, but Jane always drank about four cups. Skye didn't drink much coffee while on vacation, but she was messing around in the kitchen, trying to make pancakes. They had discovered that if Batty could hear and smell breakfast being made, she too would rise from her bed before eight.

Rosalind's phone had been on the kitchen counter, so when Skye saw it was from Tommy, she carried it out to her.

Rosalind's stomach dropped. Her sisters didn't know it, but she had barely texted Tommy since arriving at Point Mouette. With Skye dangling the phone over her, Rosalind had to answer.

Tommy wanted to know how she was, how did Point Mouette look, was Birches the same as ever.

"It's good," Rosalind said. "It's all good, totally lovely."

She glanced at Jane, who for once didn't have her nose buried in a novel or a notebook. To Rosalind's distress, Skye was leaning against the doorframe and watching. Rosalind cursed herself for being so stupid. Her sisters weren't self-centered, of course they knew something was up.

And they knew as well as Rosalind that this conversation was long overdue. The storm had been brewing. The winds had picked up every time Rosalind had changed the subject when the wedding came up, every time she had been uncharacteristically short-tempered.

"Rosie, are you ok?" Tommy asked.

"I'm fine," Rosalind said. She cursed herself for already feeling a lump in her throat.

"I know something's up," Tommy said. "And I don't know why you're lying to me, you never lie, it's got me worried."

Rosalind chewed on her lip. Tommy knew her as well as anyone. They had grown up together. He could read a depth of meaning in the way Rosalind tipped her head or blinked her eyes. She could know exactly how he was feeling by the way he fiddled with his hands. It was amazing, knowing another person that well. But in this exact moment, Rosalind was starting to think it was a bit annoying as well. Why couldn't Tommy just be a little more oblivious for a few more days while Rosalind sorted things out?

Not that she was sorting things out. If she was honest with herself, she knew she was just trying to make time stand still.

"Do you want me to come up there?" Tommy asked. "I can get in the car and be there by tonight."

"NO," Rosalind said.

Jane visibly jumped. Rosalind's vehemence surprised even herself, but she didn't try to reign it in. She just looked up at Skye, who was standing perfectly still, like some predatory animal, watching its prey. Skye wasn't surprised or rattled. Nothing shook Skye.

"I just want to be left alone," Rosalind said. "I need space."

"Rosie," Tommy said slowly, dangerously. "You need to tell me exactly what that means."

"It means things are moving too fast," Rosalind said. Her voice was raised now, and it rang out over the crisp morning air. "It means that I feel like I lost control of my life at some point, and I can't get it back. It means that maybe I don't want to have the wedding next month."

"You don't want to get married?" Tommy asked.

Rosalind's heart stopped.

"I don't know," she whispered.

Tommy cursed under his breath.

"You could have said something earlier," he said. "_I _would have said something earlier. I guess it's good we didn't hire a caterer, no big fancy wedding at a venue. I'll just have to call my mom, tell her to stop cooking. She's been working day and night, you know."

"No," Rosalind said. "Don't call your mom, please. I need time."

"There is no more time," Tommy said quietly. "If you don't want to marry me now, we can't do it next month. I can't do that."

"I didn't say I didn't want to marry you," Rosalind said.

"I love you, Rosie," Tommy said. "I have always loved you. But I'm not going to pressure you to marry me when you clearly don't want to."

Rosalind knew she was going to cry. She felt the tears rising like a great wave. But before she broke down, she felt a hard spark of cold anger. Instead of pushing it aside like she usually did, she rushed towards it.

"Why do you think it's all about _you_, Tommy?" Rosalind asked. "It's your heart, it's your love. You have always loved me, and shouldn't I be _so _happy and grateful for that. That I've _always _had you so I've never really had to be alone or figure things out for myself. Maybe, for once, it's _not _about you, it's about me! And what I want. Maybe I don't want to follow the cookie cutter path you've been oh so kind to offer me. Maybe I don't want to get married and then have kids and then be a wife and a mother for the rest of my life! Did it ever once occur to you that I might not want all that?"

"So you don't want a family with me," Tommy said, his voice as cold as ice. "I get it."

"I didn't say I didn't want it," Rosalind screeched. "It just would have been nice if you had _asked _if I wanted that, instead of assuming!"

On the other line, Tommy was silent for so long, Rosalind thought he had hung up.

"Sorry," he said at last, in a voice so morose it drained all the anger out of Rosalind. Her chest deflated like a balloon.

She heard him take a deep breath. She wanted him to say something else, but she couldn't for the life of her decide what she wanted to hear.

"I'll call my mom," Tommy said. "I don't want her to waste her time cooking and planning."

Whatever Rosalind had wanted him to say, that wasn't it.

"Ok," she said.

Rosalind set her phone down. For a second she thought of throwing it over the deck. But Rosalind didn't do stuff like that. Rosalind was never impetuous or impractical.

She looked up. Jane was clutching her hands over her heart. Skye was silently appraising her older sister with an admiring eye. Batty, wide-eyed and rumple-haired, stood behind Skye.

"This is shaping up to be some bachelorette party," Skye said.

Rosalind gasped out a laugh, brief and painful. Then she burst into tears.


	24. Chapter 24: His Favorite Penderwick

Afterwards, Jane didn't quite know how she and Alec had ended up taking the boat out just the two of them.

The plan was that they all would go. They would bring sandwiches and chips and some beer. Jeffrey and Alec would bring their instruments. Batty had a song all picked out to sing to the seals.

But after the phone call with Tommy, it was clear Rosalind wanted to be alone. She let her sisters hug her and dote on her for a few minutes, and then Rosalind went to her bedroom and shut the door. Batty was so worried about Rosalind that she declared she couldn't sing, not that day. She said that she would stay behind in case Rosalind wanted to talk. Then Jeffrey said there was no point in going to serenade if Batty wasn't there to complete the event. And anyway, he and Skye had wanted to hike along the cliffs, they could do that.

Jane had been sad since the day was so perfect, and Alec had said the boat was all ready to go, it was a shame to waste the day.

And then all of a sudden, Alec and Jane were on their way to the dock. They would serenade the seals another day, but Alec said there was nothing stopping them from enjoying some sandwiches and a nice ride.

In the years since they had met, Alec had never ceased to impress Jane and her sisters. He was, in every way, the perfect father for Jeffrey. And he was humble about it. He always reminded Jeffrey that he had missed the more difficult years of fatherhood, and he took some blame for that. It always seemed so noble to Jane how Alec could admit that he had been in the wrong, right alongside Mrs. Tifton. Although Alec was ten times nicer and more handsome than Mrs. Tifton.

As Jane hopped from the dock down into the boat, and Alec tossed her a life jacket, it occurred to Jane that he hadn't seemed to age a day since the summer they had first met. It was over ten years ago.

"You know," Jane said. "You made me wear a life jacket that first ride too."

"I made all of you," Alec said. "With Claire's injury, I was being extra careful with you kids. I felt so bad about Grover making her fall, I wanted to take some stress off of Claire."

Jane plopped onto the worn bench and watched Alec rev the engine.

"If you think about it, if Grover hadn't made her fall, she would never have met Turron," Jane said. "And then Claire would still be a lonely spinster."

"True," Alec said. "And if she hadn't been hurt, I wouldn't have spent so much time with you girls and Jeffrey. And then maybe we would never have known I was his birth father."

Jane shook her head at how dreadful it would have been to spend a summer living next door to Alec but to never discover the truth. He and Jeffrey would have been less than fifty yards apart, and yet never known. They would have been ships passing in the night.

"We would have figured it out," Jane said as the boat pulled away from the harbor and out into the neverending blue. "You guys looked too much alike."

"You were uncanny back then," Alec said. "When you insisted I looked like someone you knew."

"I was lucky you were so young," Jane said.

Alec smiled and pushed the boat faster until Jane grabbed the bar to steady herself. She grinned into the wind. They pulled past the tiny island, and Jane leaned into the wind. When they came to the rocks with the seals, Alec stopped the boat and they lingered.

Jane pulled out the sandwiches. She thought about how Alec had only been thirty-three when the Penderwicks had first met him. Which was really not that much older than she was now. And how he still looked just as young, even though he was over forty. So still, not _that _much older than Jane.

But then she thought about Alec's tragic history with love, and how he and Mrs. Tifton had actually gotten married, only for it to blow up in their faces.

"Poor Rosie," Jane said. "I don't know what's going to happen."

"Sounds like the wedding might be off," Alec said. "I always thought those two were head over heels, but you never can know."

"They _are _head over heels," Jane said. "They really are. Rosalind is just confused or scared or something."

Alec shrugged.

"Maybe," he said. "And you might be close to your sister, but no one really knows what it's like inside a relationship except the two people involved. Especially when it's been so intense for so long. They've been together since they were kids. It's tough to carry a relationship like that into adulthood and grow with it."

Jane sat in silence and ate half her sandwich. Alec opened two cokes and handed her one.

"It's just hard to see Rosalind struggle," Jane said. "She never struggles. She's the oldest and the prettiest and the wisest."

"You've sure got a lot of superlatives for Rosie," Alec said.

"But they're all true," Jane said. "At least from my perspective."

"I might just be an outsider, a mere Penderwick-Affiliate, but I can tell you what I think," Alec said. "Almost from the day I met Rosie, I always thought she was a girl who was hiding things."

"What do you mean?" Jane asked. Rosalind wasn't sneaky or a liar. She didn't deceive. She was open and loving and honest.

"She just held her cards close to her chest, she always watched her words and actions," Alec said. "Like she had taken some of her feelings and wrapped them up tight and shoved them somewhere deep down inside her."

"You make her sound cold," Jane said. "She's not; she's the warmest, kindest person."

"More superlatives," Alec said. "And I'm not saying she's cold, truly, I think Rosalind has a big heart. But I think somewhere along the way, Rosie pushed some of herself to the side so she could be what she thought her sisters needed. I mean, listen to you, you idolize her. She never let herself be human like the rest of you."

"That makes me feel really bad," Jane said. "Like we stole something from Rosalind. Or made her into something she didn't want to be."

"Don't feel bad," Alec said. "My theory was that it was because of your mom dying when you kids were so young. With a single dad and no mother, Rosalind felt she had to step up."

"Dad was always saying Rosie had mothered us too much," Jane said. "Wise beyond her years, he always said."

"When I found out your father had only married Iantha right before I met you guys, I remember thinking it was too late for Rosalind. She could have done with a new mother figure a bit earlier."

Jane peered up at him and gave him a sly smile.

"You've really done a bit of psycho-analyzing with all of us, haven't you?" she asked.

"All of it guesswork and totally inappropriate," Alec said. "I'm obviously no paragon of familial perfection myself."

Jane sipped her cola. The seals were sunning on the rock as always, but she felt as if they were letting them down, coming all the way out here with nothing to offer except their paltry company.

"You were my favorite of the Penderwicks," Alec said. "That first summer, I thought you were hilarious."

"Well, I'm glad you found all my antics and melodramatic hair-cuttings entertaining," Jane said.

"It wasn't just your melodrama," Alec said. "It was your vibrancy and your mind. It was like you were some sort of comet blazing through the world, so open to love and life. The way you were asking all the adults about true love, it was astounding."

"Oh, God," Jane groaned. "I forgot about that survey."

"Seriously, don't be embarrassed," Alec said. "You were so intelligent and sharp and just light-years ahead of other kids."

"Well, thank you," Jane said. "I'll take a compliment when I can."

"Good," Alec said.

"Things have changed," Jane said. "I've sworn off love, as I'm sure you've heard. It was taking up too much time."

"Mm," Alec said. "But what if kid Jane was onto something? I've always thought that even at 11, you knew a great writer needed great material. And you were determined to get it any way you could. Beg, borrow or steal. Or dive headfirst into a romance with the local Casanova."

Alec winked at Jane, and she found herself smiling back. It was comforting to think that maybe her former self hadn't been a total idiot after all.

Alec revved the engine, and they were off, bouncing over the big waves and bound for shore.

Jane kept glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, and she caught him doing the same. She had no idea Alec had thought so much about the Penderwick sisters. And to say _she_ was his favorite, out of them all. Jane couldn't help but be flattered.

As they neared the dock, Jane reminded herself that it was time to focus on the task at hand. Rosalind needed help. She either needed to be aided in her attempt to rid herself of a man she had never loved (Jane couldn't believe this, even after the phone call), or Rosalind needed to be saved from an unthinkable scandal.


	25. Chapter 25: Some Sad Songs

Batty couldn't for the life of her think what she should do for Rosalind. So she brewed a cup of Earl Grey tea. She felt like some heroine in a Jane Austen novel, but Rosalind did enjoy a nice cup of tea, every now and then. As the water boiled, Batty nearly cried thinking of all the times Rosalind had made a cup of tea for a morose Batty. But no, this was no time for Batty's tears.

When Batty brought the mug to Rosalind's bedroom, she expected to find Rosalind prostrate on the bed sobbing into the pillow. Instead Rosalind sat in a tiny chair in a corner. She was holding her phone in her hands, as if it were an injured bird.

The master bedroom of Birches was wide and airy. The walls were painted a crisp white. The duvet on the full-size bed was light green with tiny white flowers. There was a painting on one wall of three birches buried deep in the woods somewhere.

Seashells lined the windowsill.

Batty perched delicately on the foot of the bed.

"I made you some tea," Batty said. "Earl Grey."

"Thank you," Rosalind said. "It's sweet of you, especially since I've been so crazy lately."

"No, not crazy," Batty said. "Just a little...different."

"He's probably talking to his mom right now," Rosalind said. "She'll hate me. And Nick, Nick will think I'm such a _bitch_."

"Never," Batty gasped.

"But I am," Rosalind said. "To call off a wedding a month before, when I've had plenty of time to reconsider. And to not even be sure if I should call it off. But now I guess I have no choice. He says he won't marry me. And Tommy always means what he says."

Tears sprang to Rosalind's eyes, and Batty watched in awe as Rosalind just swallowed them. She pulled the tears back in, they never spilled over. Batty didn't know such restraint was humanly possible.

Batty was not strong like Rosalind. She had always known that. But now she had to find strength from somewhere. She thought of the most powerful songs she had ever sang. She thought of the summer she had been Elle Woods in a community theater production of _Legally Blonde _and had to wear that awful blonde wing but had belted out "So Much Better" for a standing ovation. She thought of the witch in _Into the Woods _declaring it was the last midnight, the last curse.

"Listen," Batty said. "You deserve to make the choice. If you want to call off this wedding, it's off. We can stay here, and I won't let anyone into this house that you don't want to talk to. You and Skye can move in together in Boston, and Jane will pack up all your things and bring them to you. And Skye will call all the guests and tell them it's off, no questions, no comments. Skye will be great at that. Skye might even _enjoy _it."

Batty stood up and looked down at Rosalind, her beloved Rosalind, who stared up at Batty like she had just beamed down from outer space.

"And if you _want _the wedding, well then you'll get it," Batty continued. "Jeffrey and Skye will drive to Boston and kidnap Tommy and bring him here and make him listen to you. We'll make you two talk. Jane could even help write you a speech so you say what you need to say. And I'll call Mrs. Geiger and Nick and say that Tommy had a brief aneurysm or something, or it was a prank, the wedding was never getting cancelled."

"Thank you," Rosalind whispered. "I just don't know."

"That's fine," Batty said. "You don't need to choose right now, you can just sit here and think and we'll do whatever you want. You just need to know that we will be here to help in anyway."

Batty exhaled and sat back down again. She thought to herself that not even Jane could have delivered a better pep talk.

"Ok," Rosalind said. "For now, would you sing for me?"

"What?" Batty asked.

"I want you to go into the living room and pick out the saddest songs you know," Rosalind said. "And just sing them while I sit here and listen."

So Batty wandered into the living room almost in a daze. And she began to sing "Travelling Alone." When she had finished that, she sang "Liability," then "Someone Like You." She paused for a second, and then started with "He Stopped Loving Her Today."

When Jeffrey and Skye returned from their hike, Batty was on "Hurt."

Rosalind was standing in the doorway to her room and watching Batty sing.

Batty didn't know how Rosalind could endure this onslaught with such stoicism, but Rosalind had asked this one thing of her. Rosalind had never demanded anything from Batty, and so Batty would do this. She would sing for Rosalind.


	26. Chapter 26: Genius Burns

After the boat ride with Alec, Jane had been itching to write. She dragged her computer into the screen porch and plopped down in the wicker chair near the bed. When she opened the computer though, she didn't go to her detective novel. She created a new document. She stared at the blank page and the blinking cursor.

There was nothing that terrified Jane more than a blank page. And yet there was nothing she loved more.

She took a deep breath and her fingers began to dance across the keyboard.

When Skye poked her head through the side of the screen to announce they were going to order pizza for dinner, Jane just shook her head and continued to type. Skye disappeared.

An hour later, Jeffrey crept in and left two cheese slices on a plate on the nightstand. Jane didn't touch them for another hour. She devoured them cold, and then went back to writing.

She wrote about Rosalind first. The memories poured from her. Rosalind deciding they should have sacred Meetings Of Penderwick Sisters. Rosalind creating the vow that they would keep everything said secret, unless it was dangerous. Responsible and organized Rosalind.

Rosalind, at ten years old, creating daily schedules and agendas. Rosalind ordering Jane and Skye to do their homework and Rosalind helping Batty get dressed every morning.

Jane nearly started crying when she wrote about an image she hadn't thought of in ages. It was a young eight-year-old Rosalind kneeling near the bathtub and washing baby Batty. Rosalind called her Beautiful Baby Batty. Rosalind was so short, she had to bend double to reach her scrawny arms into the water. So gently did the child Rosalind wash her baby sister's head. With such seriousness did Rosalind take on the tasks of motherhood.

Meanwhile, Jane and Skye had been roughhousing in the hallway and had probably spent the afternoon playing Hide the Baby From the Monster, a game Skye came up with that involved placing Batty in crevices and corners and closet shelves.

For the more Jane had written about Rosalind, the more she had to write about Skye, with her stubborn moods and her scraped knees and her ferocity. The more she wrote about Skye, the more she had to write about herself, dreaming up stories and adventures while Skye told her to be reasonable, please.

She wrote about the late nights when Jane and Skye would whisper together over some drama or fear – the wicked Mrs. Tifton trying to ship Jeffrey off to military school, or their dad starting to date again. They would bicker while Rosalind put Batty to bed.

And then Jane had to write about Batty, with her butterfly wings and her darling Hound, asking for one more bedtime story about her long lost mother, and Rosalind, always obliging.

So then Jane was back to Rosalind. Always dependable, always composed. Always guiding her younger sisters with love and passion.

Jane wrote about Rosalind drifting about the kitchen, humming to herself while she baked brownies or cookies or a birthday cake. For the first time, Jane thought, really thought, about how Rosalind's eyes always got a faraway look when she baked. How it was the one time Rosalind wasn't giving Skye advice or doting over Batty. How for those hours when she baked, Rosalind would retreat deep within herself, to some place no one could reach her. No sisters coud pester her, no worries could touch her.

Jane knew that Rosalind always thought of their mother when she baked. Rosalind had always used her mother's old recipe book, the one with Elizabeth Penderwick's handwritten notes. As Jane described Rosalind baking, she began to realize that when Rosalind baked, she let herself go. She let herself imagine, just for a few minutes, while she melted the sugar or sifted the flour, that her mother was alive. She let herself believe that her mother was there, right beside her. And when she baked, Rosalind was just Rosalind. She wasn't the oldest. She wasn't the motherless daughter. She wasn't the prettiest. She wasn't the most responsible. She was just Rosalind, down to her core.

The words poured out of Jane, and she couldn't stop until two in the morning. Exhaustion finally caught up to her, and she stepped away from the computer.

She knew there was more though. She would sleep, and then when she woke, she would eat, and then dive back in.

Every time she started something new, Jane was always imagining what the finished product would be like. What kind of novel she would produce. How it would be marketed. What the cover art would look like. Even who would star in the movie adaptation.

But this time, she had no idea what all these memories would produce. Jane just knew she had to write them down.


	27. Chapter 27: A Time of Crisis

The morning after the phone call with Tommy, Rosalind went for a walk. She realized that she was thinking of the phone call as a cataclysmic event. Now there would always be Before the Phone Call and After the Phone Call.

Strangely, Rosalind felt lighter. She was still devastated. She still longed to talk more with Tommy. She wanted to see him with every fiber of her being, even if she didn't know what she would say to him. But as she kicked her barefeet in the surf, she realized that she didn't feel worried anymore.

There was no great fear hanging over her. She had said the thing that was bottled up and ready to explode. The worst had happened. She was an awful person, and everyone hated her, just as she had feared they would. But she was still alive.

When Tommy had said he didn't want to marry her, Rosalind had actually thought her heart had stopped. And now here it was, early morning, the sun rising like it always did, and Rosalind's heart was still beating.

And anyway, it was unfair to say that everyone hated her. Her sisters didn't hate her. They were deeply concerned for her health, possibly disturbed by her behavior, definitely questioning her sanity...but they did not hate her.

Rosalind knew she couldn't stay in Point Mouette forever. She had opened up a colossal can of worms, with absolutely no idea how to solve any of the problems she had thrown at Tommy. She could sit in this cocoon of sisterly support here in Maine for a few more days, but the reckoning would come for her eventually.

At about midnight, she had almost hopped in Skye's car. She had been overcome with the need to see Tommy so she could explain...whatever it was that was happening. She knew she couldn't do it over the phone. She had to look into his eyes, the eyes that she had always trusted, and ask him, once more, to trust her again.

Rosalind had even gone so far to throw on a jacket and push her feet into her sneakers. But she hadn't left the bedroom.

Tommy was her safe harbor, and she could go running to him. But wasn't the problem exactly that? For the last twelve years of her life, Rosalind had clung to his reliable presence. She hadn't faced any challenges or any questions about what she was going to do or be. She was going to stick with Tommy. Because he was easy and pleasant and comfortable.

When Rosalind broke up with Tommy before going to college, she had felt righteous. It was the smart thing to do. A girl shouldn't go to college with a boyfriend from high school, everyone knew that.

Her first week at Brown had been misery. Everything was new, everyone was more clever and more sophisticated. Rosalind had been lonely. Some evenings, after grabbing a quick meal in the servery, she had curled up in her bed at seven and cried herself to sleep.

But then things had gotten better. Rosalind joined clubs and made loads of friends. She got involved with the Eco-Action team. Her friends had confessed to her that they had felt horrible and lonely during the first few weeks of freshmen year as well. It wasn't because she was away from Tommy, it was normal to struggle. Maybe it was even important to struggle and be alone sometimes.

At the end of the year, she had reunited with Tommy. She had been off on her own, she had enjoyed her first year of college, and she could have him back now without fearing that she would miss out on her college experience. And because she had briefly dated Oliver the Idiot, everyone acted like her reunion with Tommy was a Godsend. As if everyone believed that if Rosalind wasn't with Tommy, she could only be with pretentious snobs like Oliver.

But Rosalind would have ditched Oliver whether or not Tommy was in the picture. She wasn't stupid. She would have seen Oliver for what he was, and she would have bid him farewell. And then she would have continued on with her life. There was more out there than just Tommy.

She was mad at her family over that. Of course they adored Tommy, of course he was wonderful. But her family should never have acted like he was the only one for her. They should never have begged her to get back with him and then practically thrown a party when she did. They should have told Rosalind it was her choice, her life. This should be something that belonged to her and her alone. Her dad should have said something. He should have counseled her that being single for a year wasn't that long, in the great scheme of things. Instead, Mr. Penderwick just shook good old Tommy's hand. Jane should have stopped obsessing over Tommy and focused on sorting out her own boy troubles. Batty should have stopped whining about how much she missed Tommy and accepted that he wasn't Batty's boyfriend to have or not to have. And Skye! Of all people, Skye should have been there to scoff at love and romance and remind Rosalind that she didn't _have _to get back with Tommy.

Rosalind could never be angry at her family for long though. She had known she didn't have to get back with Tommy. She had _wanted _to get back with him. It had felt wonderful to be with him. She didn't even regret deciding to date again. With the foundation of friends and activities from freshman year, she had a fulfilling time in college.

She wasn't angry at herself for getting back with Tommy. She was angry at herself for never once, after that brief time, questioning the relationship. For feeling like she had to cling to Tommy because without him, she just didn't function. For accepting her and Tommy as the beginning and the end, just because her family said it was so.

Rosalind turned toward the ocean and sank onto the sand. Rosalind couldn't be angry at her family for very long, but she could be angry at herself for a good long while.

Out of the corner of her eye, Rosalind saw a figure approaching, tall and lean.

Skye plopped down beside her. Rosalind smiled in greeting. She waited for Skye to ask about Tommy. She expected Skye to dive straight in, get right to the point, and demand answers. Then perhaps throw in a line about how marriage was a patriarchal institution so good for Rosalind for dodging a bullet.

Skye did none of that.

"Remember when I yelled at Mrs. Tifton for insulting our family?" Skye asked.

"Of course," Rosalind said. "It's branded in my memory forever."

"And I wouldn't tell anyone what had happened when I came back sopping wet with a hysterical Batty."

"She wasn't _hysterical_," Rosalind said.

"Yes, she was," Skye said. "But I calmed her down a bit before we got back to the cottage."

"Jesus," Rosalind said.

Skye cleared her throat and glanced over at her older sister.

"But later that night, I told you what had happened," Skye said. "I've only ever told _you _all the stuff that woman said about us. I summarized later and cut out bits for everyone else. But I told you everything. How she called me sneaky and sarcastic, and she said there was something wrong with Batty's mental development."

Even after all this time, even when she knew Mrs. Tifton was nothing but a sad and bitter old woman who would never understand love and friendship, Rosalind still flinched at the insults.

"And how she said dad couldn't handle us, and how our mother had probably walked out," Skye continued. "And then she said what she said about you."

Rosalind pursed her lips. She wasn't twelve anymore. There was no reason this story should still make her want to sob into her pillow and hide in a closet forever.

"That I had a massive crush on Cagney," Rosalind said. "Which was true, I can't deny it."

"But the other things were horrible," Skye said. "When she said that 'one day some man was going to allow himself to be caught by your lovesick puppy act and that would be the end of your wide-eyed innocence.'

See, I remember every word because I've always felt bad for repeating that awful thing to you. I remember how you looked when I told you, like you had been shaken. Like you were going to pass out or something."

"Skye, I don't really think –" Rosalind interjected.

"Let me finish," Skye said. She took a deep breath. "I remember it so well because it was the first time in my whole life that I had ever seen you truly upset. It was like there was all of a sudden a crack in the mask I hadn't even known you were wearing. Even when mom died, I knew you were sad, but you put on such a brave face. You were always calm and polite. You had endless patience with Batty. You were always in control of your emotions, and I used to think it was because you were perfect. You were made of different stuff than me or Jane. And it wasn't until that night at Arundel when I told you those mean things that I saw you _weren't _perfect. You felt pain and sadness too. You were just hiding it from the rest of us. You were just making sure we never saw your weaknesses.

"I think about that night all the time. I think about how you weren't perfect, and you weren't an adult, but you acted like you were. For all of our sakes. And how unfair it is. And I'm sorry about that. Really, I wish it could have been different."

"Me too," Rosalind whispered. Tears were streaming down her face. She patted them with her fingertips. When had math-obsessed Skye become so emotionally perceptive?

"So I have a guess," Skye said. "That all this stuff with Tommy isn't really about the wedding or Tommy. It's about you and everything you've had to do for everyone else."

"I just feel like I'm in a box," Rosalind said. "I've always been in it, and I can't get out because I have to be Rosalind, the oldest. Rosalind, the responsible one. Rosalind, the mother."

"You don't want kids?" Skye said.

"I want kids so badly," Rosalind said. "With Tommy. I'm just so scared that I'll give and give, and they'll take and take, and someday I'll end up resenting it all."

Rosalind felt a wave of guilt wash over her. She looked at Skye. Brave, fearless Skye. If she couldn't admit it to Skye here and now, she would forever be a liar.

"Sometimes I resent you," Rosalind said. "You and Jane and Dad, and Batty, even though none of this was her fault. I love you all so much, but sometimes I get so mad at you all. Because I gave and I gave, and I never got to take. I never got to screw up or have a breakdown or lose my temper because that's not how Rosalind acted. Never Rosalind."

Skye schooched closer and wrapped her arms around Rosalind.

"I'm sorry," Skye whispered. "I'm so sorry."

Rosalind let her sister hug her, and for long moments they sat there, holding each other as the waves crept closer and closer to their toes.

Eventually Rosalind's tears subsided and she took a steadying breath.

"Although, if you think about it," Rosalind said. "Running away to Maine and calling off a wedding a month in advance is a pretty massive breakdown so maybe I'm finally getting my chance to be the one screwing up."

Skye laughed dryly.

"Anyway," Rosalind said. "None of this is your fault."

"It has often occurred to me that I was the worst possible OAP Second in Command," Skye said. "Seriously, we should have found a way to promote Jane to the position."

"Jane could never keep her head in times of crisis, and you know it," Rosalind said. "You were the perfect second. You sucked at the daily stuff, but you were an invincible wartime commander."

"And this is a time of crisis," Skye said.

"It would appear so," Rosalind said.


	28. Chapter 28: A Little Life Experience

Jane didn't know how Skye had managed it, but Rosalind looked much better by dinner time. Her eyes weren't red and blotchy for the first time since the phone call, and she even suggested they go serenade the seals the next day.

Rosalind also told her sisters over dinner that she now knew what she had to say to Tommy, she just had to figure out how to say it.

It was all unbearably cryptic for Jane, so when Rosalind remained tight-lipped over the details, Jane announced she would pop over to Alec's and tell him that the boat trip was on.

She ran into Jeffrey on the walk over. He was, predictably, going to see if Skye wanted a stroll under the stars. So Skye could observe the astrological signs. For research purposes.

Jane wondered briefly if Skye really was totally clueless about Jeffrey's undying love for her, or if Skye just wanted to be sensitive to Rosalind's feelings and not find her own true love and happiness while Rosie's heart was cleaving in two.

Jane posed the philosophical question to Alec, after he had invited her to sit on his couch and have a glass of wine.

"The heart works in mysterious ways," Alec said with a grin. "But those two are definitely a riddle. Jeffrey has been asking my advice every year since we met about how to woo Skye. To no success. I've never felt like more of a failure as a father. But your sister is a challenge."

It made sense that Jeffrey would seek out Alec's advice in that department. Jane knew that Alec dated loads of lovely women, all of them beautiful, and most of them much younger. Rosalind had commented that it was a bit sad, as if Alec had been so messed up by his disastrous early marriage that he never let himself get serious with anyone else. Jane had always been intrigued though. Her problem was that she always got serious. She only found boys who wanted serious.

"Sometimes I think Jeffrey's mistake was trying the elaborate tricks and excessive overtures," Jane said. "I'm the one who likes that kind of thing, not her. Skye always loves him best when he's himself. When he's just being a friend to her. That's my theory anyway."

"You know her the most," Alec said. "God, I was worried for him when things got serious with Dusek out in California. He got drunk one night and showed up at my apartment at four in the morning. He was crying and crying about how Skye was going to marry that Swede and forget about him and why, oh why, had I let him pursue music, I should have made him into an engineer so he could move to the Bay Area and be with Skye."

"Wow, what a mess," Jane said.

"It honestly was a bit funny," Alec said. "While also being extremely depressing."

"Most comedies start out as tragedies," Jane said.

"Wise words," Alec said. He raised his glass of wine in a small salute.

Jane leaned back into the soft red couch. She was pretty sure it was the same couch that they had all sat on for Batty's first concert. Time had only made it more comfortable.

"I've been writing a lot," Jane said. "Inspiration has struck."

"That's great," Alec said. "Anything you want to share?"

"It's still very new and raw," Jane said. "But maybe later."

"Point Mouette is the ideal place for creativity," Alec said. "I make the best music here."

"I will say, that saxophone always sounds extra special when it's wailing on the ocean breeze. We can hear it from Birches sometimes."

Jane curled her legs up under her and leaned her arm on the back of the couch.

Alec took another sip, and Jane watched his face in the dim light. He was attractive. His face was so kind and while he had scruff and a few laugh lines, it still glowed with youthful vigor. She found herself noting the curl of his still-plentiful hair. Not an old man at all, Jane thought to herself. And something about the way Alec was glancing at Jane made her feel wildly attractive as well. She felt a tingle in her stomach. She wondered if she was still as daring as she had been when she was a child, when she would just speak her mind. She wondered if she still took risks.

"I always thought you were handsome," Jane said. "And I still do."

Alec went very still, and for a moment Jane wanted to suck the words back into her mouth. He placed his wine on the coffee table. Then he slowly reached his hand – the hand Jane had scene rush adeptly over piano keys so many times – towards her face and brushed her curls gently. Jane had never felt so attractive. She had never felt so wanted. She couldn't remember the last time she was this excited to kiss someone.

"And you're beautiful," Alec breathed.

Jane leaned forward and Alec did as well. Their noses were inches apart. There was a part of Jane, buried deep down, that wondered: _Should I? With Alec...Jeffrey's? _But Jane shoved it to the side. She wanted this. She looked deep into his brown eyes and nearly laughed out loud she wanted it so badly.

They kissed, and it set Jane's entire being on fire. Now this was a man who knew what he was doing. She felt his hands wrap around her waist and pull her closer. She ran her own hands up his chest and over his shoulders. God, he was handsome. And didn't she remember, back when she was eleven, asking Aunt Claire why she didn't fall in love with Alec? He seemed like the obvious choice.

Now Jane realized that Claire, a woman grown, was attuned to men who looked for serious relationships, and men who looked for one-night stands. Claire had been over thirty. She had plenty of fun in her youth, but by then she was looking for someone to go the long-haul with. That's why when Turron showed up, Claire didn't hesitate. She just knew the difference between Alec and Turron.

He pulled away, and Jane was left gasping for air.

"I don't know," Alec whispered. "This is not...it's not really…"

"I don't care," Jane said boldly. "I want you."

"God, I want you too, but we have to be smart, we have to consider consequences," Alec said.

"There doesn't have to be consequences," Jane said. "Can't we just...have some fun?"

Alec tilted his mouth into a smile.

"Just fun? You're sure?" he asked. "Because I have to tell you, I'm not really looking for anything serious or…"

"Of course," Jane said with a smile. "No consequences, just some fun. Please."

She leaned in close for another kiss, and Alec met her lips with a ferocity.

In a blur of kisses and discarded clothes, they made it to Alec's bedroom. As they descended onto the bed, Jane didn't feel a single ounce of fear or regret or nerves. _This _was what she was supposed to be doing. She was a writer who sought to capture life. She was meant to be living life to the fullest so she could observe it in all its complicated and every-varying patterns.

Afterwards, she lay back in Alec's arms and rested her head on his bare chest.

"That was nice," she whispered.

"Agreed," said Alec.

They listened to the whistling of the wind. It sounded like a storm was headed there way, but Jane savored the warmth of Alec's bed.

"I don't want to issue any demands," Alec said. "But it might be ideal if we don't tell Jeffrey. And your sisters might...not be thrilled."

"It will be our secret," Jane said. She couldn't even imagine her sister's faces – Rosalind would be concerned that he had pressured her in some way, Skye would be nothing short of mortified, and Batty would just be confused.

But even so, Jane thought she might bury this in her fiction. Somewhere no one would ever find it, they would just think it was all Jane and her Wild Imagination.

She flipped onto her stomach and peered down at Alec.

"I swear," she said. "I'll take this secret to my grave."


	29. Chapter 29: Mentore

Batty usually had a song in her repertoire for every occasion. But as Rosalind putted about the house lost in thoughts over how best to communicate her identity crisis (or whatever was going on) to Tommy, Batty was at a loss.

She told Jeffrey as he plinked out a melody on Alec's piano that she clearly needed to expand her range.

"Your repertoire is seriously amazing," he said. "It's crazy how many songs you know. Musical theater, country, a little bit of rock, opera. Super impressive."

Batty stomped her foot and shook her head.

"Stop complimenting me," she said. "You are my mentor, you're supposed to be hard on me. Give me critiques. Constructive criticism."

Jeffrey shrugged and lifted his palms to the air.

"You may have caught up to me, Batty," he said. "When I was sixteen and you were eight, sure, I was way ahead. But you've grown immensely in the last few years, we might be even."

"Nonsense," Batty said. "Not possible. You tour all over. You are a professional, and I am a mere student."

"Everyone who hears you sing knows you got it, and that you're gonna be a star," Jeffrey said. "I knew it when you were five."

"Well, I still want to practice," Batty said in a rush.

Jeffrey was antsy, she could tell. He loved to work on music as much as anyone, but he also had the patience of a kid these days. He was always tapping his foot to get outdoors, play some soccer, run around with Skye. Always Skye. Batty figured that he hadn't seen her in ages, and he wanted to make the most of their brief time together.

But Batty also felt that Jeffrey had sworn allegiance to the Penderwick Family. And that meant he had to be a friend to _all _the Penderwicks. And she was most definitely a Penderwick.

Jeffrey shuffled through some sheet music.

"Alright, let's try 'She Used to be Mine,'" he said. "Deceptive because it's kinda poppy but also rooted in musical theater, and you have to be able to hit those notes while doing some serious acting."

Batty nodded and ran through a few warm-ups.

Jeffrey played the opening notes and she began: _It's not simple to say that most days, I don't recognize me. _

After she ran through it once, she asked Jeffrey for feedback.

"Great," he said. "You knocked it outta the park."

Batty rolled her eyes and sat down next to him on the bench.

"Seriously, Jeffrey," she said. "You have gone soft."

"I wonder if this song is how Rosie is feeling," Jeffrey said. "Remembering her youthful self, missing her former life."

"Rosalind doesn't lie," Batty said. "She never lied."

"We all lie sometimes," Jeffrey said. "To others or to ourselves."

"Very deep," Batty said. She bumped her shoulder against Jeffrey.

She knew it was futile to flirt with him. That he probably wasn't even registering it as flirting. But she couldn't help it. She hadn't spent time with Jeffrey since Wesley. Wesley had been her first love, but she had always like Jeffrey. And she was older now, whether Jeffrey realized it or not.

Jeffrey was still examining the lyrics.

"Although Tommy was part of Rosie's youth and former life," he said. "Mayhaps therein lies the problem."

Batty stood up and walked to the windows. She crossed her arms across the chest.

"Everyone has a lot to say about everyone else's relationship," Batty said.

Jeffrey popped his head up.

"Is this about Rosie snapping at you about getting an older boyfriend in college?" he asked.

"My God," Batty said. "Jane really does tell everyone about everything."

"Skye told me actually," Jeffrey said. "And I'm not _everyone_."

"Yeah, well, it's still none of your business," she said. "You're not _actually _a Penderwick."

Jeffrey stood up and crossed the room.

"You ok, Battikins?" he said. "Look, I'm sure Wesley was great, but if he could just walk away from you and go to Missouri or wherever, it's his loss."

For a second Batty relished the comfort. Then she reminded herself that Jeffrey was talking to her like a sister. He would always treat her like a sister. Not even a friend. And definitely not a love interest.

"Don't call me Battikins," she said.

"Sorry," Jeffrey said. "Sorry, sorry, sorry. I can call you Elizabeth if you like."

Batty shrugged. She knew her nickname was odd to a lot of people, but she had never felt like Elizabeth.

"I like Batty," she said at last. "My mom gave me that name."

Jeffrey nodded and meandered back to the piano. He started messing around with a diddy he had been composing. It was light and airy and fast.

Alec wandered in from the upstairs. Batty glanced up at his wrinkled shirt.

"Musicians at work?" he said casually. But his eyes seemed to linger on Batty. He was wary about something. As if he thought Batty might yell at him.

"Trying to work," Batty said. "But Jeffrey is washed up as a mentor. I've gotten literally no help from him."

Jeffrey's shoulders stiffened, but he continued to dance his fingers across the piano.

"Well, maybe you've outgrown him," Alec joked. He plopped down on the couch and seemed to relax.

"Maybe," Batty said with a melodramatic sigh. "It's like he almost doesn't care about music anymore, he's too busy chasing Skye."

Jeffrey's hands stilled. Alec forced out a chuckle. Batty knew she should stop, but she was thrilled that Jeffrey had reacted. At last, she had done something that affected him.

"As if there's even a point," Batty said with a light toss of her head. "She's clearly not over Dusek, and they'll probably just get back together, no one else wants to put up with her bear of a personality."

Jeffrey shoved his fingers down onto the piano, once in an angry chord. Then he rolled his neck. He turned towards Batty with a lazy smile.

"You know, Batty," he said. "You've been acting like way more of a baby than you ever did when you were four."

Batty felt tears rushing to her face, her stupid face that could never hide anything.

"Ah, you're going to cry again as usual," Jeffrey said. "Just like Batty always does."

Batty only saw red. She clamped her mouth shut and rushed out of the side door.

She wanted him to follow. No, she couldn't face him. She rushed down the path to Birches. She wanted Rosalind, not Jeffrey.

But before she burst into Rosalind's room, she pulled up short.

Baby Batty, crying to Rosalind, just like always.

With a monumental effort, Batty turned and headed to her own bedroom instead. She refused to be the baby anymore.


	30. Chapter 30: Friends Forever

"So Rosalind looks better," Jeffrey said. "Who patched her up? Let me guess."

Jeffrey and Skye were walking to Moose Market to pick up some groceries, and Jeffrey scrunched up his face as he mulled it over. Skye chuckled.

"Jane wrote a Sabrina Starr story that perfectly solved the issue," Jeffrey said. "And did a dramatic reading in which you acted out the lead part."

Skye pretended to vomit at the idea of Sabrina Starr (or Skye's acting skills) having anything to do with Rosalind's recovery.

"No, no, Jane has moved beyond Sabrina Starr," Jeffrey said. "It was Batty, she sang her heart out until Rosalind couldn't help but emotionally heal."

"It was me," Skye said. "I fixed her, and don't look so surprised."

Jeffrey clapped his hand over his chest and acted deeply offended.

"Skye Penderwick, I am not surprised in the slightest," Jeffrey said. "Your powers have no equal, you are a wunderkind when it comes to matters of the heart. Why, you are the greatest source of sympathy and sisterly balm I know."

"Oh shut up," Skye muttered. "But I did fix her."

Skye smiled. She was proud of herself. Jeffrey stared hard at her luminous face.

"I mean, I'm not saying everything is all sorted," Skye said. "She _did_ cancel the wedding essentially, but I think she's on her way to figuring things out."

"So will we be dancing at Arundel next month?" Jeffrey said.

"Jury is still out," Skye said. "But maybe."

"And you'll dance with me?" Jeffrey asked. "You promise me at least three dances?"

Skye rolled her eyes. He knew she was a terrible dancer. She would be skulking around in the corner of the reception eating cake and making sure Jane didn't drink too much and start babbling into the mic during speeches. If the reception even happened.

"I told Rosalind a story from Arundel actually," Skye said, partly to change the subject, partly to see if Jeffrey remembered. "About when your mother said those terrible things about us, and I overheard."

"Really?" Jeffrey said. "How did a story about my mother's cruel judgments cheer Rosalind up?"

"Well it was more about me," Skey said. "Those things she said about Rosalind and her crush on Cagney and the end of her innocence."

Jeffrey winced.

"God, my mother really is straight out of an Edith Wharton novel," he said.

"I only ever told Rosalind about _that_ particular line, I kept it from Jane and Dad when I told them," Skye said. "And it hurt her, and it was the moment I realized Rosie wasn't the pillar of strength we all thought she was. I just wanted to remind her that it was ok to not be strong and infallible all the time. That I can be strong for her, instead of vice versa. Because I failed her before, but I won't anymore."

"We all know how strong you are," Jeffrey said. His eyes were serious, and he wore a thoughtful smile.

Skye kicked her sneaker against the gravel. She tipped her head back to enjoy the sun. In only a week, her legs and face had gotten very tan, and her hair was bleached nearly white. She and Jeffrey had spent practically every second outside. Running wild like they were kids again.

Jeffrey was stealing glances at her in her short black athletic shorts and cropped T-shirt. Everyone thought she was oblivious to those sorts of things, but Skye noticed. She wasn't an idiot. She had always noticed how Jeffrey looked at her like time had stopped when she entered his line of vision.

"Well," Skye said. "What your mother said about her is a secret. Just me, you and Rosalind know. And Batty. Although she definitely doesn't remember. Probably for the best."

"I remember it clear as day," Jeffrey said. "I especially remember after you had yelled so spectacularly at my mother, and Churchie was dragging you away. You said you were sorry, but you had to do it."

"And then I said, 'Friends Forever,'" Skye smiled at the memory of her sticking her fist out and Jeffrey putting his on top of hers.

"Friends forever," Jeffrey said, just as he had vowed on that long ago afternoon.

Jeffrey sighed. They were halfway to Moose Market, and for once Skye didn't seem to be in a rush. She had slowed to a languid pace.

All of a sudden, she reached out and grabbed his hand. She squeezed it and held on. Jeffrey glanced down at their intertwined fingers, swaying as they walked. And because _she _had grabbed his hand this time, because she had bridged the gap, he decided he would say it.

"I fell in love with you that day," he said. "Sometime between when you burst in shouting that my mother couldn't talk about your family like that and when you told her you were only spying to make sure I was ok. I didn't realize it until later, but it was over for me then and there."

Skye was silent, but she didn't release his hand. She counted to ten and got ready to speak.

"There's supposed to be a full moon tonight," Skye said. "Would you meet me on the beach, maybe at midnight?"

"Yes," Jeffrey said. "I promise."


	31. Chapter 31: A Song for the Seals

It was the perfect afternoon to be on the boat. Rosalind was happy that the phone call that had destroyed so much at least hadn't permanently prevented them from serenading the seals.

It was good to be doing something besides walking the beach, like some crazed widow out of one of Jane's books.

It was good to be with her sisters and Alec and Jeffrey too. And maybe it was because she had spent so much time alone, but everyone seemed to be buzzing with energy.

Batty and Jeffrey had gone through some sort of drama on the dock. Jeffrey had whispered a few things in her ear that had made Batty nod seriously and then smile. And then she had whispered some things back. Rosalind could have sworn she heard Batty say she was sorry, although Rosalind couldn't imagine for what.

Now the two of them were at peace. Batty was sitting next to her on the bench and humming into the wind. Jeffrey was teasing Skye as she manned the steering wheel. He kept grabbing it and lurching it to one side or another, making the boat turn sharply and Rosalind scream out loud.

Jeffrey and Skye had been acting like teenagers the whole week. Rosalind had sent them to Moose Market that morning to get essentials like paper towels and chicken. They had come back laden with pies, chips and beer.

Jane meanwhile had been uncharactersitcially silent, but extremely restless. She leaned on the side of the boat with one arm dangling in the water. Rosalind wondered if perhaps she was pondering her long ago heartbreak over the treacherous Dominic Orne. He had told her some story about the island they were passing, if Rosalind remembered correctly.

Alec was quiet too. He leaned against the back of his seat and held his saxophone close. Rosalind wondered if he was bored hanging out with all these young people.

When they reached the seals, Skye stalled the boat, and they all stood at attention.

Jeffrey and Alec started assembling the clarinet and saxophone, and Batty stood up.

"We shall be starting with our version of 'Goodbye Yellow Brick Road,'" Batty announced. "Not really about seals, but it does mention dogs which also bark like seals. Plus we just like the way it sounds."

Batty cleared her throat and Alec counted them down.

Rosalind gazed out at the lounging seals while Batty's voice rang out over the placid water. She loved when Batty sang. It always made her want to cry and laugh at the same time, and it made her heart overflow with pride. And she always thought of their mother and how much happiness it would bring her to listen to her youngest daughter.

_So goodbye yellow-brick road, where the dogs of society howl, you can't plant me in your penthouse, I'm going back to my plough._

Rosalind sighed and wondered what her metaphorical plough was. Where was her home? Yes, it was on Gardam Street, but it was also wherever her sisters were. They were all lost in the music, and she took advantage to gaze upon each of them.

Batty with her face lifted up with the emotion of the song, using her whole diaphragm to get the notes out to those seals.

Jane with her eager eyes and whirring brain, staring at Alec and probably wondering how best to fit a saxophone into her newest novel.

Skye with her determined chin thrust forward as she looked at Jeffrey and smiled quietly to herself. Skye who had been the saving grace of this vacation, with all her wit and with her tenacious heart.

The song ended, and Rosalind clapped and clapped.

"And now we have a very special finale," Jeffrey said. He reached over and pulled a guitar case towards him. He looked at Batty. She took a deep breath and met Rosalind's eyes.

"This song is for Rosalind, who brought us all here because she knew we needed it, just like Rosalind has always known exactly what we need," Batty said. "And we love her for it."

Jane nodded emphatically and grabbed Rosalind's hand. Skye slipped her slim fingers around Rosalind's other hand.

"We all agreed this song was perfect, especially since it was on one of our mom's favorite CD's, which I don't remember of course, but Rosalind does, and she told us all," Batty said. "Alright, let's begin."

Jeffrey began to strum the guitar, and Batty's voice joined it. It was "Landslide" by Fleetwood Mac. Jane's tears were near instantaneous.

Rosalind, to her credit, held it together until Batty sang: _Can I sail through the changing Ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life?_

Then the tears started streaming down her face. Not the agonizing tears or frustrated tears of earlier that week. They were the pure tears of love for her sisters.

_I've been afraid of changing, because I built my life around you._

By the time Batty was singing that verse, all three of her older sisters were crying and Jane and Skye had their arms wrapped around Rosalind.

Batty, the dedicated performer, finished the song. As soon as she had given the final note its due, she threw herself atop her sisters.

Alec popped a bottle of champagne and poured it out into plastic cups.

"To the seals," Jeffrey said raising his glasses. "And also to the Penderwicks!"

"To the Penderwicks!" they all shouted into the vast ocean air.


	32. Chapter 32: Full Moon

It was half past eleven, and Skye was pacing the screen porch. She stopped every now and then to bounce on the balls of her feet or do some quick deep lunges.

She knew she would have to say a few things. She wanted to be perfectly clear with Jeffrey about what was happening. She had even considered enlisting Jane to help her write a speech. But she had shook that idea off. This wasn't a fifth-grade homework assignment. It had to come from Skye, and Jeffrey of all people would know if it didn't.

So Skye had no speech. And she hadn't rehearsed a thing. But she was excited.

Jeffrey was her best friend. She was sure of that now. Before she had thought that he could only ever be her best friend. If they tried to be something else, they would lose some crucial element. Now she understood they would always be best friends, no matter what. They had made a vow. They would never break it.

She checked her watch and nodded to herself. Quickly and quietly she inched the screen door open and hopped outside. Batty and Rosalind had both gone to sleep early, and Jane had been snoring, but Skye didn't want any sister to wake up and make her late.

She scampered down the steps and to the beach. Just as she had hoped, the full moon lit up the beach remarkably well. She could see Birches above her clearly. And as she headed towards Alec's cabin, she could see Jeffrey, standing and waiting for her.

She jogged towards him, and then slowed when they were within a few yards. Thanks to the moon, she could see his face, right down to the questioning look in his eyes and the slight dimple on his cheek.

Skye breathed in and out. She took two quick steps towards Jeffrey and placed her hands on his shoulders. Then she kissed him.

He kissed her back gently at first and then with more firmness. He kissed her with desperate passion and tenderness, and Skye matched him. She wrapped her arms around his neck while his hands found her waist and pulled her closer.

The next morning Skye would roll her eyes at her cheesiness, but it really did feel like they had levitated off the sand and were floating up into the stars.

After a long while, she pulled away. Jeffrey stared hungrily into her eyes.

"I have to tell you something and ask you something," Skye said. "I just wanted to do that first...because I really wanted to."

"Always so eloquent," Jeffrey said with a smile.

"Shut up," Skye said. "Listen."

Jeffrey squeezed her waist and looked at her.

"I love you," Skye said. Jeffrey opened his mouth but she cut him off. "Please don't interrupt me, that's only the beginning."

"Jesus, Skye, you won't even let me say it back?" Jeffrey said.

"No, let me finish."

"I love you too," Jeffrey said, quick as a whip. "Always have, always will."

Skye blushed so hard she knew he could see it, even in the dim lighting.

"Ok, great," she said. "But I also wanted to apologize for saying no so many times before. I want you to know that it didn't have anything to do with you. It was all me and my fear over the pain and loss that can happen when you really open yourself up and give yourself to someone. I wasn't ready for all that. I was scared."

"The fearless Skye Penderwick, scared?" Jeffrey leaned his forehead against her. "I forgive you."

"Ok, good, that means you're never allowed to bring it up later, down the line," Skye said. "When we're fighting or something, you can't use my reluctance when we were younger against me or bring up my issues. That's a rule."

"Are you already making _rules _for us?" Jeffrey said. He was beaming like he couldn't wait for another twenty rules to be added to the list.

"Yes, I am," Skye said. "And I also want you to know that I am all in. This isn't going to be a fling or a brief romance or anything like your other girlfriends. I know what it's like to only go partly in on a relationship, and I don't want that. I don't. This is do or die. Not to be dramatic, but it is."

"Do or die," Jeffrey whispered.

He closed the inches between them and began to kiss her again.

After several minutes, Jeffrey pulled away.

"You're still my best friend," he said.

The moon lit up his happy face, and Skye could have cried she was so overjoyed.

"I know," Skye said.

"You have anything left to say?"

"Nope, not right now," Skye said.

A long while later, they wandered back towards Birches, hand in hand. Every now and then, they would stop and kiss a bit more.

When they reached the bottom of the steps, Jeffrey suddenly laughed out loud.

"What?" Skey asked.

"My mother is going to flip out," Jeffrey said.

Skye groaned and shoved him.

"Why'd you have to bring that up _now_ in the moonlight," Skye said.

"I just love that you are talking about the moonlight nowadays," Jeffrey said.

He pulled her in for one last kiss.


	33. Chapter 33: The Unexpected Arrival

Jane kept reliving that night. After her tryst with Alec, Jane had been trying to creep undetected through the living room and to her porch bed. Then it occurred to her that everyone knew she had gone over to Alec's, and it would be strange if they _didn't _hear her come back. So she stomped her foot and cried out.

"Hello, everyone!"

Rosalind and Batty poked their heads out of Rosalind's room where they had been watching a movie on Batty's laptop.

"Oh hi," Batty said.

"Hi, indeed," Jane had said.

Then with a smile and a toss of her rumpled hair, she had dashed over to the screen porch. Once safely on her own bed, she had laughed out loud with pure adrenaline. She had been so scared that Jeffrey would wander in while she padded down the steps from Alec's room in her bare feet. That would happen if it were a novel, she thought to herself. Then she jotted the note down.

Now, a full day and night later, Jane was no less excited by the secret. It was more than just a romantic venture. She had cracked the code. She had tapped into what made her a good writer in the first place. She was willing to experience life at its radical highs and lows. And its most extreme instances. She had so much to write about now. Ideas were pouring out of her. She couldn't stop writing about Rosalind and her other sisters, but she was also having a million other little thoughts and storylines.

She was sitting at the table and eating Rosalind's breakfast of eggs and bacon, and she couldn't stop writing in her notebook, even when Batty begged her to stop spilling eggs on the floor.

"I don't know what is with you guys," Batty muttered.

Jane glanced up to see that Skye was also in a daze. She had her chin propped in her hand and was gazing into space with a soft smile on her lips. Her whole life, Jane had thought Skye's eyes would be beautiful and approachable if Skye would only stop glaring out of them, and there Skye was, lost in some secret wondrous place and looking, truth be told, like a princess in a storybook.

"I know what's with them," Rosalind said as she danced over to the table with a mischievous grin.

Jane sucked in her breath and stared hard at her cold eggs. This was bad. Very bad. She was caught. Skye remained in some sort of dreamland, but this bombshell would shock her out of it. Although Rosalind sounded a bit too excited about Jane's one night stand with an older man who just so happened to be the father of their oldest and dearest friend.

"In my bereaved state, I've been having trouble sleeping," Rosalind said in a sing-song voice. "So I just so happened to be wide awake last night at around an hour after midnight."

Skye's eyes snapped to Rosalind's, and her face turned bright red.

"What's going on?" Batty said. "What did you see?"

Jane flipped her head between her sisters. Rosalind sat down and wrapped her hands around her mug. She was relishing this. Jane had been locked up in her porch last night, perfectly chaste and quiet, so it wasn't about Alec.

"I'm just lucky there was a full moon," Rosalind said. "So I could see certain people wandering the beach."

"Jesus, Rosie, you are vicious," Skye muttered but a bashful smile was inching across her face.

"Don't make me say it, you tell them," Rosalind was practically squealing. "Hand in hand, _kissing!_"

"Tell us what?" Batty asked.

"Oh my god," Jane said. "It didn't happen."

"It did happen!" Rosalind screamed. "It finally did."

Skye sighed and looked heavenward, as if questioning how she had ended up with such silly sisters.

"Jeffrey and I are together now," Skye said. She laughed out loud and shook her head. "Finally. Sorry I was taking too long for you fools."

The three sisters erupted in screams and folded a squirming Skye into their arms.

Jane noticed that Batty had to blink a few times and shake off some hesitance, but Jane knew that Batty would get over her schoolgirl crush, especially when she realized that Destiny was truly involved in all this. As for herself, with all her newly enhanced writing intuition, Jane was already composing her maid of honor speech in her head.

"I can't believe you were spying," Skye said.

"I was _not _spying," Rosalind countered. "I was just looking out my window, it was a perfectly natural thing to do, and you were _right there_."

"Tell us _everything_," Jane said. "Every single detail right down to the grains of sand beneath your feet."

Skye opened her mouth, and it really looked like she was going to tell the story – she was too happy to not tell it – but then before she spoke all four girls heard the crackle of a car's wheels pulling into the Birches driveway.

They sat still as they heard heavy footsteps on the path. The footsteps of someone tall and strong, a former football player in fact. Then they heard a rap on the front door. How they knew, they could not say, but Jane swore to her dying day that all three younger sisters were looking at Rosalind before the voice called out.

"Hello?" the voice said. "Is anyone there?"

Tommy Geiger had arrived at Point Mouette.


	34. Chapter 34: Tommy at Point Mouette

Rosalind's heart started beating at a frantic pace. She had been so happy about Skye and Jeffrey, and now...she was still happy, but it was a desperate happiness. Some instinct was telling her that Tommy was here for her, so things would be ok. When things weren't ok. That instinct needed to die.

"We can send him away," Jane whispered. "Say the word, and we will send him away."

"But also if you have things to say to him, we don't have to," Skye added.

"Rosie, we'll do anything you ask," Batty said.

Rosalind looked at her three sisters and nodded.

"Let him in," she said.

Jane rose and drifted to the door.

"Oh, hello Tommy Geiger," Jane said. "God of the Goalposts."

Jane had not called Tommy by a silly football-inspired moniker for about ten years.

"Jane," Tommy said. "I was hoping to see Rosalind, if that would be alright with her?"

Rosalind felt her lip tremble at his voice. He was so hesitant and yet so determined.

Jane stepped aside, and Tommy entered.

Rosalind sat at the table. Batty and Skye flanked her. Jane walked over to stand by Skye.

Rosalind felt strong with them there. Like a queen in her throne room. Batty was her kind-hearted shadow and devoted advisor. Skye was her brave warrior and commander of her armies. Jane was her wise historian, recording everything that transpired.

"My mother wouldn't let me say the wedding was off," Tommy said. "She wouldn't even let me explain anything."

In fact, Mrs. Geiger had given Tommy a speech he would never forget. Tommy described how she had said of course Rosalind was nervous about the wedding. Mrs. Geiger had nearly had a panic attack the day before her own. And in fact, there had been some days, when Nick and Tommy were kids, that Mrs. Geiger had looked out the window and wondered how she had ended up spending her days doing laundry and making sandwiches for ravenous little boys and she had wondered if it was all a waste of her potential.

Mrs. Geiger told Tommy he had absolutely no idea what it was like to be a young woman on the cusp of marriage, knowing that the decisions you make now will dictate the rest of your life, and there's no erasing any of it. There are no easy do-overs. Once a woman has a child, she has a child. Once a woman reaches a certain age, there's no turning back the clock.

She told Tommy that Rosalind was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he hadn't even had to do anything to earn her. He had just grown up on Gardam Street, right across from the most wonderful girl in the world. And if he was going to let Rosalind slip through his fingers because he couldn't listen to her or understand her fear, then he was an idiot and didn't deserve her in the first place.

Tommy explained that he had been mad over that conversation with his mother for six hours. And then he had been sad for another 24 hours after that. Then for the next day or so, he had been scared. Truly terrified that if he waited by the phone, she would never call. That if he went to her, she wouldn't see him. That he was going to mess up the only thing that mattered.

Finally, he had gotten in the car and driven up to Point Mouette.

After explaining all this to Rosalind, as her sisters stood by in silence, he asked if, please, they could talk.

Rosalind inclined her head and stood up. She stepped towards him. She grabbed his hand and led him down to the beach.

"We can cancel the wedding, Rosie," Tommy said. "If it's what you want, we never have to get married or anything. I'll even move out, if it makes you happy or you want space or need to slow down. I'll do anything, but I just don't want to lose you. I can't lose you."

Rosalind's breath caught in her throat.

"Tommy, you don't have to do all that," she said.

"But I want to," Tommy said. "I know it's scary, I know it feels like a lot. And if you tell me you don't ever want to get married for the next fifty years, that's fine. As long as I can be with you for those fifty years. Please. We'll do anything you want. We can move to Chile or Alaska. We can quit our jobs or buy a farm, or I don't know. Anything at all, as long as we're together."

"You should definitely _not _quit your job," Rosalind said with a grin.

"Are you laughing at me?" Tommy said.

"No," Rosalind said. "Well, yes, a bit, but it's only because I love you."

"You do?" Tommy asked.

Rosalind wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him long and deep. Tommy felt like a feather could knock him over.

"Of course I love you," she said. "And I know I've made the past few days very hard for you, and I'm sorry. But I've sorted a lot of things out up here."

"So, you'll stay with me," Tommy said. "We'll work this out?"

"I want to marry you next month," Rosalind said.

Tommy furrowed his brow.

"The wedding was scaring me because it felt like an ending," she said. "Like it was just the safe option. The only option. But now I know you're willing to do anything, any sort of option. I don't feel trapped anymore. I want the wedding because I want it, not because everyone expects it."

"But we don't have to, Rosie," Tommy said.

"I want to," she said. "I felt like everything was moving too fast, and I have to tell you, I was scared about having kids. I want kids, but I just got so terrified over how I feel like I've been acting like a mother since I was young, and it's hard. I was scared I would be unhappy with all that. But my sisters reminded me that I don't always have to be the perfect oldest. I don't always have to give, sometimes I can take from them."

Tommy leaned back and grabbed her shoulders.

"We can wait," he said. "We can wait as long as you want, and we can even adopt if you're nervous about being older."

"Really?" Rosalind asked.

"Of course," Tommy said. "I want to raise our children together, I don't care when we have them or what specific DNA they have."

Rosalind hugged Tommy as hard as she could then.

The next few hours were a blur of explaining and clarifying.

First Rosalind had to explain to her sisters how Tommy was wonderful, he had always been wonderful, she had just needed to think some things through, with their help of course. Then she had to tell them that they were her miracles, every single one of them, and that they had helped her so much.

Then they all had to congratulate Tommy once again and greet him properly and apologize for being so cold when he arrived, they only did it to protect Rosie.

Next, Tommy and Rosalind called Mrs. Geiger, and Rosalind thanked her over and over into the phone, and Mrs. Geiger teared up and told Rosalind that she loved her, she would always love her.

After that, Jeffrey showed up, and the Penderwicks had to announce the happy news about Skye and Jeffrey to Tommy. Jeffrey was mad that Skye had told her sisters before he got there, but she told him that Rosalind had _seen _them, and they had all yanked the confession out of her. So Jeffrey hugged Skye and told her that he didn't care who saw them, from now on.

Then Tommy joked about a double wedding, and Rosalind did not miss the thoughtful look that passed between Skye and Jeffrey.

Finally, Jane disappeared to the porch and then emerged clutching her computer. She announced that she had something to share, if they were in the mood to listen. They all piled onto the couch, Rosalind next to Tommy, with Batty curled up into Rosalind's other side, and Jeffrey with his arm around Skye.

Jane sat across from then, and she began to read some of her recent writings. It was a passage about Rosalind, giving the baby Batty a bath. So clearly and tenderly had Jane rendered the moment, Rosalind felt a rush of emotion, and she squeezed Batty's hand as hard as she could. Then Jane read another passage about Rosalind teaching her little sisters how to say a vow she had made up. It was for a secret ritual, a Meeting of Penderwick Sisters.

When Jane finished, she peered out at them all, her eyes full.

"I was thinking," Jane said. "That this might be the next thing I write. A story about us. If that's alright."

Rosalind pulled herself out of the couch and rushed towards Jane.

"Of course it's all right," Rosalind cried. "Of course you have to write it."


	35. Chapter 35: One Month Later

Lydia was not a flower girl. She was a bridesmaid. That was important, Rosalind had explained to her. All the other kids her age might be flower girls or ring bearers, but Lydia was the bride's sister, and so she was more important than a mere flower girl.

She was sitting in the backseat of her parents' car as they drove to Arundel. Her brother Ben was messing around with his video camera and filming bits of the Berkshire scenery out the window.

Her mother was gazing out and wondering aloud when exactly they were going to arrive. Her father was driving. And they were lost. Her mom's phone didn't even have service so they couldn't look the address up on the phone.

"We got lost the last time too," Mr. Penderwick said. He chuckled to himself. He really seemed to find the whole thing amusing.

Lydia was not amused. She wanted to get there already so she could see Rosalind, the bride-to-be and Skye, the shocking _other _bride-to-be. And Jane and Batty the other bridesmaids. Jane had told Lydia over the phone that her dress was _perfect_. Jane had said it was the loveliest shade of pink.

"People always want to put a redhead in pink," Iantha had quipped.

Iantha, Lydia and Ben were the only Penderwicks with red hair. Lydia was proud of her hair and how it curled just like her mother's.

Her hair, Lydia believed, was just as nice as Rosalind's.

Rosie, Tommy, Jane, Batty and Skye had all arrived the day before. Jeffrey had met them there to help clean the house and set everything up.

Lydia couldn't wait to join them. She knew every story about Arundel by heart – the bull in the field (although they reported that bull was long gone and replaced by sheep), Batty accidentally letting the rabbits out of the carriage house, and Hound ruining the garden committee competition.

It was a great sadness to Lydia that they wouldn't be staying in the mythical yellow cottage of yore, but in the mansion itself. With Mrs. Tifton no longer in residence, there were plenty of rooms for everyone, and no one to stop them.

Of course Mrs. Tifton would attend the wedding itself. Jeffrey could never _not invite _his own mother. Her mom was a bit worried about the whole thing since Mrs. Tifton disapproved of Skye and the Penderwicks in general. Lydia didn't understand how anyone could disapprove of Skye. She was brilliant and brave and beautiful.

Lydia had also heard her parents whispering to each other about the inevitable tension between Mrs. Tifton and Alec. Lydia didn't know the details, but she knew that Alec and Mrs. Tifton had once been married. They weren't anymore. In fact, Mrs. Tifton had several other ex-husbands.

"Anyway, it doesn't matter," her father had said. "As long as Skye is happy."

"Agreed," her mom had said. "I always knew they would figure it out."

"I had my doubts," her father said. "Skye can be so stubborn. Which will probably help her when it comes to being Mrs. Tifton's daughter-in-law."

Her sisters had always told stories about how truly awful Mrs. Tifton was, but Lydia couldn't help but think that if Mrs. Tifton had once been in love with the kindhearted Alec, then she couldn't be all bad.

"Ah-hah," Mr. Penderwick cried from the driver's seat. "I remember this, it's a left up here."

Sure enough, within a few minutes, two large stone columns came into sight.

Lydia started bouncing in her seat with excitement.

"Wow," her mom said. "These are some lovely grounds."

The car moved alongside the hedge, and Lydia was overtaken with a desire to jump out and run about to explore every tree and every flower.

"The gardens aren't what they once were," her dad was saying. "But take my word for it, they were something to behold back in the day."

Suddenly the mansion came into sight, and it was just as Jane had described it, with it's big windows and fine stonework. A great palace, like Cair Paravel, El Dorado, or Camelot. But best of all were the people pouring out of the front door.

First came Jane with her wild curls bouncing. Batty was close behind her, grinning from ear to ear. Then came Skye, dragging Jeffrey by the hand. Lydia had been surprised when they were added to the wedding docket, but her mother explained that Lydia didn't know all the history. And Lydia had to admit, the two of them looked so very _right_. Just as right as Rosalind and Tommy running towards the car as well.

At last the car stopped, and Lydia and Ben tumbled out, and all the siblings were together again, hugging and shouting.

The Penderwicks had returned to Arundel at last.


	36. Chapter 36: Morning of the Wedding

The morning of the wedding, Jane was jolted awake by Skye. It was early, and between all the joyous reunions and soccer games and long walks through the grounds and the rehearsal dinner the night before, Jane was exhausted. She kept saying that it was truly draining to be a _double _maid of honor. To which Skye kept pointing out that Jane wasn't the only maid of honor, she was sharing the duties with Batty and Lydia. It had seemed unsisterly to elevate just one of them to the role.

At last Jane groaned and rolled over.

"What is it?" Jane said.

"Wanna go down and have breakfast?" Skye said. "Rosie said she wanted us to have a special girls-only breakfast on the patio. Although Ben might be there."

Jane stretched and got out of bed. Her and Skye were sharing a bright and spacious guest bedroom with twin beds. Skye had been sneaking off to Jeffrey's room every night, but she kept wandering back to Jane's to sleep. Jane had accused Skye of trying to uphold some traditional wedding rituals after all, and Skye had scoffed.

Jane suspected that some part of Skye, buried deep down, missed sharing a bedroom with her sister.

As Jane threw on a sundress and ran her fingers through her hair, Skye bounced on the balls of her feet. Skye was wearing flowy cotton pants with a simple white shirt that was cropped to show just a sliver of Skye's flat stomach. To Jane, Skye looked like some sophisticated and elegant scholar lounging on her weekend off work. She also looked just like their mother.

Except for the trademark Skye scowl. Which Jane had decided suited Skye in a bizarre and twisted way.

"God, weddings are stressful," Skye said. "If I have to hear one more person fret about if it will rain, I swear I'll punch a wall."

"You have no right to be stressed," Jane said. "Wasn't the point of doing this double wedding so you wouldn't have to plan anything?"

"True," Skye said. "And because we're wildly and madly in love, so why waste time."

Jane headed for the door. She needed a cup of coffee in order to deal with sappy Skye. Everytime Skye talked about how much she loved Jeffrey, the sentence started out sarcastic and then somehow turned genuine halfway through.

"So you're _not _going to do a runner?" Jane asked. "Honestly, I feel a bit cheated. I was led to believe that at least one person was going to run, resulting in a dramatic left-at-the-altar situation, and now it looks like both of you are going to go all the way through with it."

"I'm no coward, you know I never run away," Skye said with a grin. "Even if it's pouring rain this afternoon, I'm getting myself to the Greek pavilion."

"So then banish your stress," Jane said. "Not even Mrs. Tifton is causing problems."

Mrs. Tifton had come round. When she first heard the news, from Jeffrey's mouth and far away from any Penderwick, she had allegedly thrown a fit. She had threatened Jeffrey's inheritance, but when it became clear that neither Jeffrey nor Skye cared about the money, Mrs. Tifton had been at a loss. The fight drained out of her, and she was going along with everything. She wasn't exactly being a docile and welcoming mother of the groom, but she was staying with Mrs. Robinette and attending all the events. She had even complimented Lydia's hair.

The real victory had occurred the night before. Mrs. Tifton had consumed a bit too much wine at the rehearsal dinner and admitted to Jane (who Skye was quick to point out had never actually infuriated Mrs. Tifton as much as the rest of them) that Skye was insufferably rude at times, but really did remind Mrs. Tifton of her younger self.

Jane told the story to everyone later, and they had a good laugh. Alec then added that Mrs. Tifton was not exactly _wrong. _In her youth, she had a fiery personality that reminded Alec of Skye for sure.

Jeffrey shook his head, and Skye scoffed. Jane quipped that was _enough _psycho-analyzing for the day.

Jane and Alec had not repeated their tryst. They had not spoken of it, and Jane was just fine with that. As they had promised, it was a secret. Jane was well and truly shocked at how easy it was to move on and act natural in front of everyone.

Jane had been unable to stop writing since Point Mouette. The last few weeks had been mayhem. Upon returning to Boston, she had picked up more waitress shifts. When she got home, she had to continue work on the wedding dresses. And then she would write and write late into the night. She couldn't sleep until she got everything out.

She had continued with the stories about her sisters, eventually threading them into a shape. Upon the return to Arundel, a rush of additional memories had overcome Jane, and she had written even more.

As she and Skye headed to the patio, Jane was shocked to realize that she had never felt more confident in her writing. Despite still being a mere waitress, despite all the rejection letters from literary magazines, despite the trail of trials and tribulations, Jane was a writer.

She had lost her self-assuredness somewhere along the way. But now she had gotten it back. Somehow, she was as confident now as she had been long ago, the first summer she came to Arundel and wrote about Sabrina Starr up in that attic.


	37. Chapter 37: Breakfast on the Patio

Batty clutched her cup of herbal tea and stretched her feet out onto the chair in front of her. The view from the patio really was stunning. The Penderwick women (and Ben) enjoyed a glorious green panorama as they had their breakfast.

Churchie had come back from her daughter's house to attend the wedding, and she had insisted on cooking up a breakfast of eggs, bacon, toast, sausage, gingerbread, fruit and more.

She had ordered Skye and Rosalind to finish their heaping plates. God forbid, one of them faint from hunger on their way down the aisle.

"I would _never _faint," Skye said.

"Oh, but you have fainted," Iantha was quick to say. "I'll never forget when I was summoned backstage at that play."

Everyone burst into laughter, and Jane started reciting some of her old Rainbow lines.

Batty admired all their smiling faces – Rosalind glowing with joy, Skye as lighthearted as she had ever been, Lydia perched on a chair and grinning at all the stories, Aunt Claire laughing out loud, and Iantha beaming with a look of peace and serenity.

Batty felt good. She and Jeffrey and Alec were going to be the band at the reception, along with her Uncle Turron and her cousins. They had rehearsed yesterday, and they sounded amazing. Batty was thinking of forming her own band when she got back to school. Perhaps a girl group. She could post an advertisement on the bulletin board: Singer Seeks Fellow Band Members. A guitar player, a drummer, a bassist for sure.

For a few moments, Batty lost herself in a fantasy of her band's various outfits and shows, but she was summoned back to the present by Aunt Claire announcing she had a little surprise.

Aunt Claire reached into her bag and rummaged around a bit. A mother of twins, Aunt Claire never went anywhere without half of a pantry, a first aid kid, and duct tape in her bag. She at last pulled out an envelope containing photos from a wedding long ago. The bride was Elizabeth Penderwick.

The sisters all huddled around and gasped at their mother's grace and beauty and joked over the old fashions.

"Holy moly, mom and Skye could be _twins_," Jane said.

Skye didn't shrug off the comment as she usually did, she just smiled and nodded.

There were some photos of Mrs. Penderwick getting ready, laughing with her bridesmaids. A photo of Mr. Penderwick looking nervous – the girls all remembered how nervous he was at his wedding to Iantha as well. A few photos of the reception.

The pictures made Batty want to cry, not just because she would never see this woman, but also because she had never known her to begin with. No matter how many stories Rosalind or Aunt Claire or her father told, Elizabeth Penderwick was a mystery far more than she was a mother. Batty felt a hand slip into hers, and she looked up and saw Iantha smiling at her. Batty felt a rush of gratitude.

"I'm sorry there aren't that many," Claire said. "It wasn't like nowadays, where everyone can take a million pictures on their phone and save them forever on a computer."

"They're perfect," Rosalind said. "I wish she was here."

"But if she were here, then I wouldn't be," Lydia said.

"Oh, no honey, that's not what I meant," Rosalind said. She scooped up Lydia and dragged her into her lap.

"There's a theory about alternate universes," Skye said. "That argues that even if some events are altered, you still might exist, in a slightly different form. It's the pebble in a river idea. If you throw a stone in the current, that doesn't stop the current, it just diverts the flow of water in a very tiny way."

"Huh?" Lydia asked.

"Skye's right," Iantha said. "I'll give you an article about it when you're older."

Iantha winked at Skye, and Skye grinned with pride. Batty considered Iantha to be her mother, but she knew Skye looked up to Iantha like a hero and mentor.

And just as she thought of mentors, Jeffrey came loping out onto the patio.

"Good morning, ladies," he said. "Your favorite Honorary Penderwick is here."

"Jeffrey!" Ben cried out. Ben adored all his sisters, but he looked overjoyed to see Jeffrey.

"You must not be here!" Jane shouted, even as Skye stood up to hug Jeffrey in excitement. "The groom is not supposed to see the bride on the day of the wedding until she walks down the aisle. Is nothing sacred?"

"Oh please, we already went for a run together this morning," Skye said. "Besides, we care not for societal norms, we're just doing this for the tax break."

"What about being wildly and madly in love?" Jane said.

"That too," Skye said.


	38. Chapter 38: Getting Dressed

Rosalind ran her hands over the ivory skirt and got a thrill of joy at the feel of the fabric. Jane had really done a magnificent job.

Rosalind, with Iantha's help, had arranged her hair piled up on her head, with just a few stray curls hanging down around her face and neck. She looked in the mirror and smiled. She already knew Tommy was going to stand there stunned, like he had done during prom.

She took a deep breath and noted with pleasure how light she felt. No burdens, no worries. This is what she wanted.

"Don't poke me," Skye muttered.

Rosalind turned to watch Batty attempting to dust Skye's eyelids with some shimmery powder.

"Hold still and trust me," Batty said. "I'm not doing too much, just enough to make you look like a fairy princess."

"What if I don't want to be a fairy princess?" Skye asked. "What if I want to be the hag?"

Jane stopped whirling about in her glorious green dress and clucked her tongue.

"Don't you want Jeffrey to look at you like your beauty has stopped the world from turning round its axis?" Jane said in a whimsical voice.

"He always looks at me like that," Skye said with a sly smile.

Never had Rosalind seen Skye come alive as much as she had in the last month. She was still witty and down-to-earth and just a little bit biting with her sarcasm, but everything had softened around the edges. Skye had relaxed. She was finally doing exactly what she was meant to be doing: studying astrophysics come the fall, and vowing to have adventures with her best friend for the rest of her life.

Rosalind peeked back in the mirror and reminded herself that she couldn't tear up anymore. She had applied mascara, and it wouldn't do to have black tracks running down her cheeks, at least not until after the wedding.

She waited until Batty had finished Skye's make-up. With her blonde hair and bright eyes and that flowing blue dress, Skye really did look like a fairy. Just one that could whip out a sword and slay a dragon if need be.

Rosalind stood and took a breath.

"Alright, MOPS come to order," Rosalind said. "Iantha, you can obviously stay, this isn't a super secret meeting."

"Second the motion," Skye said.

Jane thirded it, Batty fourthed it, and Lydia fifthed it. They all piled their fists on top of each other.

"Right," Rosalind said. "No need to keep anything secret as I said. But I do want to say that I love all of you very much, and I just want us to vow to take care of each other forever, and always uphold the Penderwick Family Honor."

"And have a sister vacation every summer," Jane said. "Point Mouette was amazing, even with the histrionics."

"And you have to take me next time," Lydia added.

"Agreed," Skye said. "Alright, let's do the vow."

"This we swear," they all said. "On the Penderwick Family Honor."


	39. Chapter 39: A Wedding At Last

Skye poked her head out from the greenhouse, where the brides and bridesmaids were gathered, and observed the crowd.

It was small, but it included her favorite people in the world. Her dad and Iantha sitting in the front row, with Ben right beside them. Iantha had worked her magic of making everyone adore her and was having a very civil conversation with Mrs. Tifton. Aunt Claire was on the other side of Mrs. Tifton, and she looked a little worn out. Apparently, Mrs. Tifton had remembered how Aunt Claire had talked out some things with her over the phone back when Jeffrey had first reunited with Alec at Point Mouette, and Mrs. Tifton was expecting Claire to once again be her therapist.

Skye had a hunch Mrs. Tifton had a lot of concerns about how Skye was going to redecorate Arundel. As if Skye cared about home decor in the slightest.

Turron was doing his best to cheer Claire up, Skye could tell.

In the next row was Alec. Everyone thought it best to not seat him too close to Mrs. Tifton.

Then there were Skye's roommates from college, a few of Jeffrey's music friends, Rosalind's old friend Anna, and the Gieger clan. Everyone Skye wanted there. And seated at the very front, Skye could see Tommy and Jeffrey. Someone had tried to make Jeffrey's hair stay flat, but it had not worked. _Good_, Skye thought to herself.

She turned back to her sisters. Jane was fixing one of Rosalind's curls, and Batty was holding hands with Lydia and twirling about.

When Skye announced that she and Jeffrey would be getting married with Rosalind and Tommy, Jane had offered to make Skye another dress. Jane said she knew the blue voile number wouldn't be Skye's top pick, and it was her wedding after all, so she should be able to choose her dress. But Skye had tried the dress on first. She had stood in front of the mirror in Jane's apartment for a long time. She had admired how the bodice hugged her narrow torso and scrutinized how the voile skirt flowed out in an endless river of blue.

Then she had hugged Jane and said the dress was perfect. Jane was confused, but Skye had said that maybe Jane knew Skye better than Skye knew herself. Because Skye wouldn't have selected this dress, but it was the ideal wedding gown for her anyway.

"Well, even before I knew there would be a double wedding, I did think to myself that Jeffrey's heart would stop when he saw you in this," Jane said.

"You never stopped believing in us?" Skye had asked.

"Once a hopeless romantic, always a hopeless romantic," Jane said.

Over near the pavilion, the music started up, slow and gentle.

"Alright, troops," Skye said. "Time to move out."

In a rush of shimmering skirts and bouquets of wildflowers, the Penderwick sisters got in line.

First Lydia pranced out across the lawn and towards the chairs. Then Jane and Batty walked side by side, looking like summer nymphs personified in the green and violet dresses.

Rosalind and Skye stood shoulder to shoulder. Rosalind was wearing shoes with a small heel, and Skye was wearing simple flats, so they were the exact same height.

"Ready?" Skye asked.

"Yes," Rosalind breathed. "Let's get married."


End file.
